


I Wonder If You Look Both Ways When You Cross My Mind

by debwalsh



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stucky endgame, Transphobia, dumb boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-01-27 19:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12588856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh
Summary: When Steve's Ma succumbs to cancer, his Uncle Phil is there to help him pick up the pieces.  But that means leaving New York and starting a new life at the elite Academy where Uncle Phil is in charge.  All Steve wants is to stay where things are familiar, where he has friends, a beautiful boyfriend in Sam Wilson, and the memory of days spent with his Ma.  But when he gets to school and meets his new tutor, fellow junior Bucky Barnes, Steve discovers that sometimes the most painful changes lead to the most wonderful discoveries.Now complete with the epilogue!





	1. It Gets Better

**Author's Note:**

> So this story started because I was chatting with Original CeeNote on Tumblr, and I swore I couldn't write a high school AU. It's just too long since I was in high school. And then this happened. I've been previewing chapters for my lovely Patreon patrons, and they say it's not too bad. I hope you like it.
> 
> Title from a line in _See You Again_ by Tyler, the Creator

Steve was doing fine.

He _was_.

He was nearly 17.  He was old enough to be an emancipated minor.  He didn’t need a guardian, for fuck’s sake.

His Ma was gone.  Didn’t mean he suddenly got irresponsible or more of an asshole.  He knew how to be responsible, he knew how to make the groceries last and how to work hard enough to scrape together rent each month.  He’d done it before, when Ma’s meds got too expensive, even with insurance.  Their place was rent-controlled, if only his landlord could look past the fact he wasn’t quite 17 yet.  He was good for it.  He was good for it all.  He could make it work.

He didn’t want to leave the apartment where he’d grown up, where he’d learned to draw and write and make his Ma’s eyes sparkle with his flights of imagination.  He didn’t want to leave the place where her scent still lingered on the air, if he turned his head just so.  He didn’t want to leave the one place where he felt at home, where he could still feel _her_.

He wasn’t ready.

He _wasn’t_.

This judge didn’t know him, didn’t know his Ma.  Didn’t know how important it was that he stay in New York, in Brooklyn, close enough to walk to Ma’s grave and sit her with her in the waning hours of the day, tell her about his day, who beat him up, whose grill he got up in, what blows he’d landed for social justice, what reprimand he’d received for fighting on school grounds, what warning the school nurse had handed him on what ailment that barely even registered anymore.

He couldn’t leave her.  He promised.

He _promised_.

It didn’t matter.

&&&

Uncle Phil was his father’s older brother, and he’d been around Steve’s whole life, just not really _in_ it all that much.  He visited for the big holidays, small ones when he could, bringing food and drink and gifts, a strange enthusiasm, and a gentle smile.  Sometimes, he had Ma and Steve over to his, a big house in the sleepy Pennsylvania town next to the academy where he’d been headmaster for as long as Steve could remember.

Uncle Phil had claimed the place was a disaster, and that’s why Steve and Ma weren’t invited there anymore, but Steve always knew it was because Uncle Phil knew the trip was draining on Ma.  And the enthusiasm dimmed but never went away, and the gentle smile grew sadder each year as they both watched Ma lose the battle with her cancer, day by day. 

So Uncle Phil wasn’t a stranger.  He just wasn’t Ma.

And his house with the fenced in front yard, and the trees with a rope swing in the back, all that wasn’t unfamiliar, it just wasn’t home.

But the judge said all that was wrong, and now that Ma was gone, Steve was lucky to have a relative like Uncle Phil, someone who was willing and able to take him in, make sure he got a good education, a future.

Like any future without Ma in it was worth shit.

But, she’d made him promise this, too.  She’d known that Uncle Phil would be the one who’d come for him, who’d stand by with a hand on his shoulder and a steady presence in the last weeks as Ma disappeared into the hospital bed, engulfed in wires and tubes and just … _grayed out_.  That he’d be the one who’d sit on the other side of the bed, night after night, gently holding one withering hand, ignoring the IV drip, the growing chill, the slowing pulse, just holding on, lending his presence and his strength and his … love, Steve supposed.  She’d known that he’d be the one who’d gather him up in a hug and murmur words of encouragement and grief, who’d stand by him through the funeral shit and the sorting and the legal crap, and oh God, how was Steve supposed to put one foot in front of another when Ma would never do that again?

“I know you didn’t want to leave New York, Steve.  I’m sorry to have to uproot you.  But I can only take leave for so long.”

“Thought you were in charge, you could take as long as you wanted.”

“Well, yes, I am in charge.  And I’m very fortunate that my employers have faith in me.  But the law only requires that they hold my job for twelve weeks, and I’ve been gone nearly that long.”

Twelve weeks.  Twelve weeks marking the end of a life, the destruction of everything he held dear.  Ma was gone, Steve’s life was in ruins, and Uncle Phil was still talking.

“ … get you settled before you start in on the school year.  I asked my assistant to identify a couple of possibilities for tutors to help you get up to speed before you start so that you can join your class.  I want to give you every opportunity for success, just like your Mom wanted.  I know changing schools can be very stressful, so hopefully this will help a bit.”

“Why can’t I finish out the year at my regular school?” Steve asked bitterly, dragging his sleeve across his nose because it was badass, not because he had the ugly crying snots.

“As I said, I have to get back.  And I’m not going to leave you behind, Steve, don’t ever think that!”

“It’d be okay if you did,” Steve muttered.  He didn’t want to leave Brooklyn, his school, his apartment.  Sam.  He wanted his life to go back to the way it was, him and Ma against the world, and the flutter in his tummy when Sam kissed him …

“No, it wouldn’t.  I’m not going to pretend like everything is going to be okay.  But I’m hoping some assistance will make it a little easier to make the transition.” 

“Yeah, like I’m ever gonna fit in.  If I weren’t your nephew, I’d’a never got in your fancy academy –“

“Well, there’s where you’re wrong.  You took the entrance exam two years ago, Steve.  And you exceeded expectations.  I’d’ve taken you as an incoming freshman right then, but your Mom didn’t want to … she didn’t want to be separated from you.  So, no.  You’ve earned your place at the Academy.  Fair and square.”

“When did I take this test?  I don’t remember applying –“

“Remember those computer simulations you helped me with a couple of years ago?  Those are our entrance exams.”

“I thought they were games.”

“They are, to an extent.  Stark Academy isn’t looking for people who’ve learned to play the standardized test system.  The games test knowledge, cognitive and higher reasoning ability, memory retention, problem solving – a whole host of key metrics.  We’re looking for critical thinkers, people who look at the box and kick it to the curb and come up with their own solutions.  Change the game, if necessary.”

“ _Kobayashi Maru_ ,” Steve breathed.

“If you like.  Yes.  Kirk changed the rules in order to win the unwinnable scenario.  Sometimes the only way to make progress is to reset the game.”

“Isn’t that a nice way of saying cheating?”

“No. It’s learning how to see through new eyes,” he replied with a smile.  “So you did really well.”

“So why the tutor?”

“You haven’t fully finished your sophomore year, and I’d like to see you coming in as a junior.  You could use some help finishing up the requirements for your sophomore year, and for getting up to speed with how we do things at the Academy, just help you acclimate.  And this way, there’ll be at least one person you know on campus other than your fuddy-duddy old uncle.”

If Uncle Phil was waiting for Steve to tell him he wasn’t an old fuddy duddy, he was going to be waiting a really long fucking time.  Exhibit A – A tie while driving.  Exhibit B – a vest over his shirt and tie.  While driving. 

So yeah, he fuddied his duddy.

And he wasn’t Ma.

And this wasn’t Brooklyn.

And he wasn’t going to fit in, no matter how many tutors Uncle Phil got for him. 

But he had to admit that it was nice to have someone in his corner, someone who noticed and who tried.  He’d never doubt how much Ma loved him, but pain and drug side effects had taken up an increasing percentage of her attention in the past year.  He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being important to someone until just now.  It was like he’d been disappearing in stages alongside Ma, and he didn’t even know. 

Steve hunkered down in the comfortable seat in the practical hybrid car, and hugged his arms around himself, held himself braced.  He could feel the tears forming, on the edge of his awareness.  But if he held himself just so, he could hold them back until he was alone.  In a new house.  In a new town.  In a new life. 

Whether he wanted to or not.

&&&

  
Uncle Phil’s house was bigger than three or more of the apartment Steve had shared with his Ma, a basement, two stories, and an attic on top of it all.  A detached two car garage, a workshop building where the lawn and snow equipment lived.  A backyard with an outdoor kitchen, entertaining space, swings … it was the home of a family, held in trust by a single man with a hopeful, gentle smile.

There was a master suite on the second floor, a tasteful set of rooms that included a huge and comfortable looking bedroom, a small den/office, and a luxurious bathroom.

Steve’s room was down the hall on the second floor, a large room on the corner of the house, with windows on both exterior walls, and its own bathroom complete with soaking tub and steam shower.  When Steve woke up his first morning in the room, he swore at the sun poking him in the eye with its brightness, but as he laid there and watched how the light suffused the room, he realized that the natural light was not only abundant, it was perfect for a studio.  He’d have to ask Uncle Phil if that’s what he’d had in mind.

It was the “in-law suite” on the first floor that Steve found so curious.  As large as the master suite on the second floor, it was more feminine in tone.  Not girly or frilly, just not … not as masculine.  Uncle Phil had never been married, and he’d never heard him talk about any kind of significant other, so the care with which the suite had been decorated and maintained just seemed kind of odd.

Uncle Phil came in from outside and found Steve standing there in the hall looking into the suite, and he cleared his throat carefully.  “I’d always hoped you both would move in with me.  But I couldn’t pry your mother out of New York,” he said with a chuckle.

And that’s when the penny dropped.

“Did she know?” Steve asked softly.

“Know what?”

“That you were in love with her?” Steve swallowed, hard, finding the words to be so peculiar even as he said them, yet convinced of their truth.

“I never made any secret of it.  I met her first, you know.  I introduced her to your father, actually,” he chuckled, and Steve could hear the decades old pain in the sound. “My younger and much more attractive brother.  Joe had … _charisma_ by the boat load.  He was bright, talented, and kind.  A born leader.  He made her happy in ways I never could.”

“But you still hoped?”

“That she would come to love me like that?  No.  I enjoy reading fantasy, but I don’t live it.  No, but when you Dad died in Afghanistan, I’d hoped we could be a family, friends.  But I respected her wishes.”

“And now?”

“And now, you’re going to have to help me make space for the boxes from your apartment.  The movers should be here tomorrow afternoon with everything.  I figure it can all go in here until you’ve sorted through everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.  Steve, I don’t want you to have to give up more than you absolutely have to.  So, yeah, I had the movers pack up everything in the apartment.  You can take as long as you like to go through it.”

“I, uh … I –“

“Hey, Mr. Coulson!  You there, sir?”  

“Ah, and that would be your tutor,” Uncle Phil told him, the mood immediately shifting away from melancholy to practical.  “In here, Barnes!” Uncle Phil called out.

Around the corner came a dark-haired boy whose gray-blue eyes widened and whose lips parted with some emotion Steve couldn’t name.  And when those sinful lips slid into a smirk and he moved his head just so to shake out his mane of thick, brown hair, Steve just stared, words knocked right out of him by the sight of the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen.  Even more beautiful, Steve thought guiltily, than his boyfriend back in Brooklyn, Sam Wilson.

“Hi.  I’m Bucky,” he introduced, thrusting his hand out to Steve.

Steve had no option but to accept the hand, feeling like it was the lifeline he’d been waiting for.  He smiled back.

So … maybe Nowhere, Pennsylvania wasn’t so bad after all … it had pretty scenery at least ...

&&&


	2. The Medium is the Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get to know more about Steve's journey, the people he gets to know, and just what's lacking at Stark Academy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later this month, I mark the third anniversary of losing my Mom. I don't say that to gain sympathy - I know how much support I've received from this fandom, and I can never repay that. But I've tapped into some of what I felt in the months following my Mom's death in writing Steve's journey here. It's horrible and it's difficult and sometimes you want to die, too. But then there are moments of beauty, of actual joy that surprise you and remind you that there's a world beyond your pain. And it's a light to guide you home. I had friends old and new reach out to me, get me out of my head and out of my house, and let me know that I wasn't alone. For Steve to be in a new environment, with all his normal support system gone or compromised, it's a gift to make a friend who pulls all his own friends in to embrace Steve. It's a first step on a journey they'll take together ...

Nowhere, Pennsylvania – or Potts Junction as it declared on the local Post Office signage – proved to be every bit as non-New York as Steve suspected, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that some of the things it wasn’t were things he wasn’t going to miss about home.

Its sidewalks were wide and tree-lined, and foot traffic was often brisk but not crowded.  That meant a five foot nothing asthmatic could power walk from point A to point B without an elbow in the eye, a stiletto through the instep, or a brush with death by courier.  Drivers paid attention to red lights and street signs, and people on the sidewalks were respectful and seemed to favor sensible footwear.  And any cyclists he saw on the road wore head gear, stayed off the sidewalk, and used actual hand signals to telegraph their intent.

Uncle Phil’s house was in town, so within walking distance of the town center.  It might not have a Starbucks or a Kaplan’s, or even Madame Chow’s.  But it had a decent diner that served killer fries, and bottomless nectar of the Gods that masqueraded as coffee, a movie theatre that showed first run movies without the Midtown price tag.

Steve found he enjoyed getting out and about more than he had back home, and the added exercise – plus the relatively cleaner air – seemed to help his asthma, and his stamina.  He started to pack on a bit more muscle, and it wasn’t long before Bucky suggested that he try out for the swim team.

_Bucky_.

His uncle-appointed tutor cum spirit guide had quickly morphed into his constant companion and partner in crime.  It didn’t take Steve long to come up to speed academically - schoolwork was something to do, and it tended to distract him from how lost he felt.  Having someone to do it with made it a little less like punishment, and it was nice to have someone his own age to shoot the shit with, play the odd video game, and talk about music, webcomics, and trends in animation.  To grab a coffee, or a late evening snack.  Sometimes, it almost felt like a date, but he knew better.  And besides, he still had a smoking hot boyfriend waiting for him back in Brooklyn.  But still …

He polished off his sophomore work by the end of June, so he was able to spend his birthday – his first of many birthdays without Ma – trying to look like he was relaxing at the cookout Uncle Phil hosted, and watching fireworks over the lake.  Uncle Phil had invited people from the Academy, teacher-type people who were actually pretty cool, friends of his and people Steve would be working with when the school year started in September. 

He’d also invited Bucky, and asked Bucky to invite some of his friends who were around for the summer, so Steve would get a chance to meet new people.  That’s how Steve met badass Brit Peggy Carter and her boyfriend Gabe, Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson from the swim team, and James “Monty” Montgomery Falsworth, another senior Brit ex-pat slumming it in the wilds of Pennsylvania. 

And then there was Natasha.  She was a Russian ex-Olympic gymnast who looked like she could decapitate Steve with her thighs, and bury the body before anyone noticed he was missing.  She was also Bucky’s girlfriend, which effectively put to bed any fantasies of coffees and sundaes at the L&L Dinner being dates.  She and Steve could look eye to eye with no crouching or tippy-toeing.  Where he was thin and wiry, she was petite and powerful.  She sized him up in those first minutes at the cookout, and smiled slyly at him, punched him on the shoulder and told him, “You’ll do, Rogers.”

And just like that, Steve fell into a social group that didn’t ask painful questions, but offered him a comfortable niche to settle into.  As the summer progressed, he felt less anxious about the new school and the new year.  Sadness, and the Ma-sized hole in his life, were never far from his thoughts.  But he gradually started to feel more like himself, and less like a disappearing version of a shadow of the boy previously known as Steve Rogers.

By the time August was coming to a close, Steve found himself fitting into life at Stark Academy faster and more smoothly than he would have ever hoped possible. 

In point of fact, Steve had started the summer really hoping that he would have stood out like the proverbial sore thumb, and Uncle Phil would have quickly admitted his own poor judgment in thinking Steve was Stark material, resulting in him allowing Steve to return to Brooklyn as an emancipated minor to continue his life of petty delinquency and general urban badassery. 

But Steve had proved very quickly to be exactly Stark material, even if he would always chafe at the idea of wearing a uniform.  At least there was no school rule against his tatts or body jewelry.  And Uncle Phil hadn’t been blowing smoke up his ass over him actually acing the entrance exam, either.  His guidance counselor and physics prof, Dr. Banner, had shown Steve the results of his tests vs. the average Stark student.  Steve had actually scored well above the standard, and was in the top 10 percent of the current crop of students. 

And he had to admit he liked the small class sizes, far smaller than the New York public school system could sustain.  The smaller class size meant that Steve could hear better, his teachers were more easily able to accommodate his hearing needs, and the school’s zero tolerance toward bullying meant he got through his classes without being teased for being half deaf, shorter than your average squirrel, or needing a rescue inhaler and an epi-pen on his person at all times.

He hadn’t come out about his sexuality yet because he was still feeling his way, and he didn’t really feel like it was anybody’s business.  Uncle Phil knew that Steve liked both, and he’d never judged him, never held it against him.  But he was still taking the temperature of the school, and not seeing any other openly gay students led him to be a bit more circumspect than anyone who actually knew him would have expected.

Strangely, Steve found himself wanting to make Stark Academy work for him.  He had no choice but to get used to a world without Ma.  In a strange way, the total differences in his life made it a little easier.

He didn’t know if it was by luck or by design, but he shared all his classes with Bucky, and teachers tended to pair them up for projects.  So even if they hadn’t chosen to hang out, they’d be working together anyway.

Steve had begged off on the swim team, promising to think about it in their senior year if his health continued to improve.  He liked Bucky’s friends Matt and Foggy, and he did enjoy swimming, but he wasn’t ready to commit to the rigors of competition.

He did, however, jump at the chance to join the school newspaper, _The Medium_ , and the school literary magazine, _The Troubadour_ , both brilliantly helmed by the inestimable Peggy Carter, the gorgeous, red-lipped, ball-busting femme fatale of a senior who ruled the fourth estate of Stark Academy like she’d been born to the purple.  She was also president of the student council, so she pretty much had the first estate locked up, too.

Since meeting on Steve’s birthday, he and Peggy had become good friends.  Steve would admit to himself – and to himself alone – that he was a little bit in love with Peggy Carter, but he knew her heart was already taken by the equally gorgeous and every bit as talented Gabe Jones, another senior with hands divinely made to tease the music of the gods from any keyboard known to man, and a mind that would give Trek’s universal translator a run for its virtual money.  Although, Steve had to wonder at the twinkle that would light up Peggy’s eyes whenever she talked about her friend in town, Angie Martinelli.  A townie, Angie had her eye on bright lights and big audiences, and whenever they ventured to the L&L, Angie was always ready to ply Steve with milkshakes, coffee, or banana splits in exchange for intel on the theatre scene in New York.

So, yeah, Steve suspected that the amazing Ms. C was both bi and poly, and he was happy for all concerned if that was the case.  And if he sometimes wondered if there was room for one more to make a perfect quad, that was nobody’s business but his own.

It seemed like everyone around him was paired off or loved up in some fashion.  Jacques Dernier, Gabe’s fellow polyglot (although Jacques refused to speak in anything but French, because, well, he was an asshole just like the rest of them, really), had caught the eye of Patsy Walker, a really sweet girl with a bloodthirsty nose for news.  She was _The Medium’s_ chief investigative reporter, and she’d dragged Jacques along on so many adventures, he’d finally started being her personal photographer.  They were both up for national high school journalism awards this year, and odds were they were going to win.

Monty was the paper’s style columnist, and what he didn’t know about trends, design, and up and coming fashion wasn’t worth knowing.  Or at least that’s what he had to say on the subject.  The latest in the betting pool was that he was going to pop the question to his long-term girlfriend, Karen Page, at the spring formal.  Steve was betting on Christmas break, because nothing says forever like freezing your ass off in winter.  If he could nudge Monty in that direction, there was a neat 100 coming his way …

Even Tim Dugan, another senior in the group, had a girlfriend, a townie like Angie.  Lorraine was her name, and she and Tim had met when Tim was just starting at Stark all those years ago.  Someone had dared six year old Tim to escape the compound and make his way to the town center and the statue of women of the Revolutionary War.  The story went that he’d nodded once, and wasn’t seen again until the town sheriff found him snuggled up napping at the feet of the statue.  He’d earned the nickname Dum Dum that day, and even though the guy was a certified genius, that’s what everyone called him to this day.  And he still hadn’t met a dare he wasn’t willing to take on.  And beat.  Dude was probably gonna win a Nobel someday, and they’d still be calling him Dum Dum.

And then there was Bucky.  Like Steve, he was a junior, but he held his own with the senior crowd, giving as good as he got and then some.  For as much time as Bucky found to spend with Steve, somehow he also managed to score one of the coolest women on campus.  He was really, really glad that Natasha seemed to like him and didn’t begrudge the time that he and Bucky spent together, hanging out, studying, working on projects …

As for Steve, he was still sort of paired off.  His boyfriend, Sam, had made him promise they’d text and Skype every day, and they did, most days, a hello in the morning, a check in during the day, a fap session before bed.  That was new, actually.  They’d never gotten to the all-hands-on-dicks stage before he’d left Brooklyn, but distance and privacy had emboldened them both, and it wasn’t long after he’d arrived at Uncle Phil’s that Sam had started to talk about what he’d hoped they’d be doing right then if they’d been together.

Just thinking about Sam’s smooth voice, mellow and low, talking about how he’d like to touch Steve, how he’d like Steve to touch him … it was enough that Steve could feel himself chubbing up in his shorts, right there in the newsroom.

So of course, that was the moment that Natasha chose to drop herself into the leather-upholstered seat next to him, demanding, “What’s new in social justice, Steve, hmm?” She took a pull off the straw of her iced coffee, arching an amused eyebrow at him.  Like she knew where his mind had wandered, and how his body was reacting.  Steve very intentionally did not glance down at his crotch, even though his brain was screaming at him to make sure he wasn’t showing right then.

“How come there’s no pride club on campus?” he blurted instead, louder than intended, and suddenly found himself at the center of a silent void.

Everyone in _The Medium_ office had stopped what they were doing, and now they were all looking at him.

“Why do you care?” Bucky was the first to break the silence.  Because of course he was.

Okay, so Steve hadn’t done a flamboyant escape from the closet upon arrival at Stark.  He hadn’t been trying to keep any secrets, he just hadn’t made any announcements.  Yet.  So, he guessed now was as good a time as any.

“Um, because I’m gay.  Well, bi, but mostly gay.  And I can’t be the only one here – statistically it would be unlikely –“

“I’m bi,” Peggy admitted easily.  “Maybe pan – it never occurred to me to worry about gender.  But you know something, Steve, you’re right.  Stark is a progressive school, and yet we have no representation on campus.”

“I’m seeing a lovely young woman right now, but I have one or two lovely young men in my past,” Monty added.  So, was bi a British thing? Steve wondered absently as he waited – breath held – for response to percolate around the room.

“Why would we need a pride club?  I mean, there’s no anti-gay sentiment here,” Bucky protested mildly, but Steve wondered just how true his statement was.  And just why Bucky would be against an LGBTQIA club.

“Not that you’ve seen.  But it’s not for the haters, but for the people who might need some help.  Some community.  Questions answered.  Yeah,” Gabe replied, walking over to squeeze Peggy’s shoulder.

“Perhaps, Steve, you should remedy this situation,” Peggy suggested with a smile.

“And open it to kids from town, too,” Natasha added, taking another sip of her drink.  Peggy arched a challenging eyebrow at her.  “What?  That’d give you an excuse to get Angie out here for once.”

Peggy glanced up at Gabe, who smiled back at her.  “She’s right, you know.  Ang feels like you’re ashamed of her – _we’re_ ashamed of her.  It’d be nice to have a chance to show her off, bring her into this part of our lives,” he told her gently.

“Well, that’s settled then.  I’ll co-sponsor the group with you, Steve.  But you come up with the name and the marketing plan.”

“Marketing plan?”

“Flyers, schedule, agenda, the nuts and bolts.  I’ll present it to the council, you present it to your uncle.  We’ll need a faculty sponsor – what do you think?  Dr. Banner?  Or Mr. Laufeyson?”

“Oooh, Mr. Laufeyson has that lovely androgynous quality, doesn’t he?” Natasha asked, sprang up from her seat and pirouetted across the room to settle on the arm of Peggy’s chair.  She glanced up and grinned at Gabe, who nodded back at her with a knowing smirk.  Natasha was an inveterate flirt, but she always landed back on Bucky’s arm.  Or lap.  Or somewhere in his direct orbit.  “But I think Dr. Banner might be a better choice.  I just _adore_ him.”

“Should I be jealous?” Bucky asked with a chuckle in his voice.

“No more than I should be,” Natasha replied cryptically, and Steve thought he saw a momentary frown cross his friend’s face before settling back into a smile – a stiffer smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Steve furrowed his brows and pressed his lips together for a second, then shook it off.  None of his business.  “I like Dr. Banner for the job.  _If_ he’ll take it on.  Physics classes and guidance counseling take up a crapton of his time.”

“I can’t imagine him turning us down,” Monty said thoughtfully.  “It’s just the kind of thing that looks good on a CV, not to mention an annual report.”

“And he’s a social justice warrior in his off time,” came a new voice, Patsy’s, from the doorway.  “I agree with Steve – how come we’ve never had an LGBT thingie club before?”

“Simple,” Bucky shrugged.  “We never had Steve before.”

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I upped the chapter count because there's an epilogue that I forgot to count. :)
> 
> Chapter 3 will be up tomorrow. I'd love to know what you think!


	3. Friends Across the Spectrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The club gets started, and Steve discovers there are certain advantages - and disadvantages - to making his way at Stark Academy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm off to see Thor Ragnarok tonight, so I thought I'd post early. Have a new chapter.

“Friends Across the Spectrum” proved a little more complicated to launch than Steve or even Peggy had anticipated.

Peggy had gone into the student council meeting flush with confidence, and had come out tight-lipped and angry.  When Steve had moved to ask her what was wrong when he saw her departing the meeting a while later, Gabe had looked up and just shaken his head gently, his eyes shifting toward Peggy meaningfully.  Steve had frowned, but nodded and took a step back into his original position.  He was just about to turn to go when Peggy suddenly stopped, muttered, “Fucking wanker!” under her breath, and pivoted on her stacked heel. 

“Steve.  Make sure you get Dr. Banner on board ASAP.  I’d like to have the first group meeting within the week if possible.  No later than a fortnight,” she clipped out, and then spun back on her heel without waiting for his response.  Gabe hung back looking at Steve, and then widened his eyes and made shooing motions with his hands.

“Yes, Peggy,” Steve tossed over his shoulder, and scurried off to Dr. Banner’s office.  Clearly Stark Academy was not as spectrum-friendly as he’d been led to believe.

Dr. Banner didn’t have a secretary or an assistant, but his colleague, Dr. Betty Ross was puttering around the administration suite when Steve walked in.  “Steve, hi!  Oh, is everything okay?” she asked sweetly.  A physicist like Dr. Banner, Dr. Ross was a beloved member of the faculty – always positive, always encouraging, and always challenging.  She had a wicked sense of humor, and was known to prank Dr. Banner on a regular basis.  The campus betting pool favored them getting married by the spring, while some doubters wondered if Dr. Banner even realized that Dr. Ross was female.

“Um, no, but I kinda need to talk to Dr. Banner?”

“Oh, he’s just catching up on his daily dose of internet cats – you can go right in,” she grinned at him with a conspiratorial twinkle.

Steve barked a laugh despite himself, and turned to knock on Dr. Banner’s office door.

&&&

“Well, um, I’m gonna need to check into the insurance, Steve,” Dr. Banner said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Insurance?”

“If you’re going to bring people who aren’t residents or staff of the Academy onto school grounds, there are liability issues.”

“What if we do it off campus?”

“Well, then we’ve got liability issues for students assembling off campus.  I mean, you guys can have a social life, don’t get me wrong, but if you want to do this as an official Stark Academy organization, the whole insurance thing comes into play.  And I would like to see this be an official Stark Academy organization.  It’s something we’ve needed for a while now.”

“Why?” Steve shrugged.  “I mean, other than, y’know, what I as a bi-sexual guy see as a need.”

Dr. Banner chuckled gently and smiled encouragingly at him.  “You’re not the only student who identifies as other than strictly cis, Steve.  I can’t violate anyone’s privacy by telling you who they might be, but you being willing to start this group could be beneficial to other students.  And I do like the idea of inviting people from town to participate.  It would be good for both populations to share and benefit from the group.  It’s great that you’re enthusiastic.  But you do need to be aware that there might be people who … who don’t share that enthusiasm.”

“Or that open mind?” Steve prompted, and Dr. Banner shook his head sadly.  “Ah.  Well, I didn’t expect that East Bumfuck would be the tolerance capital of the US.  And Peggs didn’t look so happy coming out of student council.  So, yeah, maybe we really do need this.”

“She brought it up to student council already?”

“Yeah.  And she looked like she was going to tear off somebody’s arm and bash their head in with the wet end.”

“I’ll talk to Professor Fury – he’s the faculty advisor for the student council.  I’ll see what insight he can share regarding the council reaction.  And where you’re friends with Peggy … give her a day or two, but hopefully she’ll share with you.  If you’re going to be co-sponsors, I’d say she has a responsibility.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed.  “Okay.  We’re gonna do this.  So yes, please, could you look into the insurance angle?  And I’ll talk to my uncle, get him on board.”

“I wouldn’t worry about your uncle not being on board, Steve.  I gather from how he’s talked about you over the years, you’ve been out for a while now.  And he’s never been anything but proud of you.  He’s one of the good ones, Steve.”

“Yeah, I’m finding that out.  Thanks, Dr. Banner.  But hey – do you know anyone who’d Peggy would call a ‘fucking wanker’?”

Dr. Banner’s face fell, and he lowered his head, shaking it in frustration.  Lifting it again to look directly at Steve, he answered, “I can think of someone, yeah.  I’ll confirm with Professor Fury, and I’ll let you know.  If it’s who I think it is, then I think you need to be prepared.”

“Prepared?”

“To defend yourself, Steve.  And potentially the members of your club.  From your transcript, it looks like you don’t back down from a fight very often –“

“I never back down from a fight.  Not when there are assholes or bullies involved.”

“Yeah, well, even Stark Academy has its share of those.  Despite your uncle’s best efforts, I’m afraid.”

&&&

“So, Dr. Banner is looking into insurance –“

“If you have your meetings in the dining hall, you should be fine,” Uncle Phil interrupted mildly.  “The space is multi-purpose, and we host both the community and friends and family there.  It’s insured for off-campus participants.  You may have noticed a few families who eat there as well.”

“Yeah, I wondered about that.”

“Stark Academy contributes an annual family pass to the dining hall, all expenses covered, to several of the churches, community groups, and food bank.  They’re assigned by lottery and raffle, so there’s no connotation attached.  It’s a way for the school to be a part of the fabric of the town.  So I like what you’re proposing.”

“But?”

“No buts.  I’ll sign off on the charter, and you’ll have a modest budget for refreshments and activities, just like any other school organization.  Anything else, you’ll need to raise yourself – dues, fundraisers, etc.  I’m really proud of you, Steve.  And very, very pleased.  You’re working really hard, and you’re making a difference.  Not just fitting in, but making Stark Academy a better place.  Your Mom would be so incredibly proud of you.  Your Dad, too, I know it.”

“I, uh, wow.  Thanks, Uncle Phil.”

“Which brings me to something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I knew it was too easy.”

“No, nothing bad, not really.  It’s just that we’re going to have a couple of guests for Thanksgiving this year.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.”

“Like, the Stark behind the Stark Academy?

“And the Potts behind Potts Junction.  Most people assume Potts Junction is somehow related to Pottstown, Pottsville, and the other Potts towns named after John Potts.  It isn’t – it’s named after Ms. Potts’s great, great, great grandfather.”

“So Mr. Stark took the idea of being friendly with the town seriously.”

Uncle Phil chuckled at that.  “In a way, yes.  Ms. Potts is the last of her line, and Mr. Stark … well, I’m not sure Ms. Potts is interested in allowing Mr. Stark to reproduce.  So neither of them has any family.  And they do own the school.  And now that … well, now that our family is smaller, I invited them to share the holiday with us.”

“Yeah, okay.  I don’t have to wear a suit that day, do I?”

“Clean jeans without holes will suffice.  Tony’s likely to show up with a vintage band t-shirt.”

“So, yeah, that’s okay, then.”

“There’s something else, Steve.”

“Ye-eah?”

“You gave up a lot to come live here with me.  I know you have a boyfriend, Sam.  I know you’ve kept in touch.  Would you like to invite him to join us for the holiday?”

“Seriously?  Really?”

“I’ll even pay for his train ticket.”

Steve didn’t even realize he’d launched himself at Uncle Phil until he felt the man’s arms lock around him, his face pressed into Steve’s shoulder.  He’d forgotten how good it felt to be hugged by someone who cared for him.  And the way that Uncle Phil’s arms tightened around him, he wondered if Uncle Phil felt the same way.

&&&

“Yeah, so Uncle Phil said he’d pay your fare and everything.  Whaddya say, Sam?”

“I mean, it’s gonna cost me Grandma Wilson’s sweet potato pie – not to mention her cranberry custard.  And you know how I feel about that cranberry custard.”

“It’s a gift from God, I know.  I’d forgotten about that.  I’m gonna miss it, too.  Damn.  I don’t think I can face life without any more of your Gran’s cranberry custard pie –“

“I’ll ask her if she’ll make an extra I can bring with me.  Of course I wanna spend a holiday with you.  A week off school, you got a nice big bed now … we might be able to take this to the next level, baby,” Sam cooed at Steve, settling back in his bed and arranging his laptop for optimum viewing angle.

Steve followed suit, arranging himself comfortably, in full view of the webcam to give Sam the best show possible.

“So what prompted this, huh?” Sam asked, undoing the button on his jeans and easing the zipper down.

“I think he’d been thinking about it for a while.  But I think I got it as a reward today because of ‘Friends Across the Spectrum’,” Steve answered, shuffling back against his pillows and turning to fluff one so it was just right to support his back.

“’Friends Across the Spectrum’?” Sam asked, his hand hovering over his crotch.

“New group we’re forming here on campus.  Can you believe a place this prestigious has no organizations for LGBTQIA?  Nothing!  So, me and Peggy – you’re gonna love her, Sam, she’s awesome – me and Peggy are heading up the effort to get one started.  We’re even gonna invite people from town to join, make it a real community group,” Steve told him excitedly as he shucked his jeans and shoved them down his thighs.  Then he jammed his hand down his shorts and took hold of himself.

It was only then that he realized that Sam wasn’t touching himself.  He was sitting up on his bed, his ear cocked toward his door.  “Steve, I gotta go.  I hear my sister on the stairs – I can’t let her find me with my dick in my hand.  Look, I’ll talk to you later, okay?  And I’ll see you at Thanksgiving!”

And Sam severed the connection, leaving the Skype window damningly empty on Steve’s laptop.  He drew his hand out of his underwear and closed the lid of the laptop, staring at it in silence for a while.  Sam’s younger sister, Ororo, was preteen and precocious, and she had no conception of privacy.  She’d stormed in on Steve and Sam making out more than once, and that had been embarrassing enough.  So, yeah, he got why Sam wouldn’t want to be jerking off with Steve via Skype when Rory let herself in.

But he couldn’t help but feel that something was off.  He’d have to ask Sam about it later.  They were rock solid, he knew, and whatever it was was nothing.  It was _nothing_.  But for the moment, Steve found he was no longer in the mood, so he pulled his clothes back on and went downstairs in search of popcorn and something carbonated.

&&&

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cranberry custard pie is a thing. It's a beautiful thing. I need to find a good recipe for it, as I haven't had it in years. If you have one, feel free to share ... :)


	4. Snaps to That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the club makes progress, and Steve continues his campaign of adorable obliviousness, Bucky gets a new view of Steve, and a villain enters, stage left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is really such a strange sensation holding chapters back to post, but this is giving me a chance to flesh out the later chapters. I don't see any issues with keeping up with a chapter a day until the story is complete here on AO3.

The first meeting of Friends Across the Spectrum had gone surprisingly well.  True to his word, Uncle Phil had signed off on the charter, and Peggy and Steve found themselves in charge of a small operating budget, a rulebook, and a faculty sponsor in Dr. Banner.  Dr. Ross joined him, yet again fueling campus gossip that they were a thing.

Angie Martinelli had been dutifully impressed with the “joint,” as she called it, and both Gabe and Peggy had been solicitous and oddly nervous, trying to cater to her every whim.  It was really pretty cute to watch the indomitable Ms. Carter reduced to a jittery suitor.  But Angie had finally just taken each of their chins in her hands, and pulled them close for an awkward but endearing three way kiss.  “Guess I know who I belong to, huh?” she grinned at them, and Gabe and Peggy nodded enthusiastically.

There were a few people from town, a couple of young women, a really nice guy who looked spooked until Steve and Peggy started talking about their own experiences, then he was full of questions.  There was a really beautiful trans guy who started to look really uncomfortable partway through the meeting, so Steve suggested a break so everyone could get some refreshments, and then he drew him off to the side to check on him.  That’s when he found out the guy had bound himself using an Ace bandage, and the bandage was not only chaffing, it was too tight in places.  Steve spent some time showing him some good resources for proper binders, and extracted a promise that the Ace bandage was going in the trash.  In fact, he’d stood there while Kev unwound it and tossed it, and then went through some breathing exercises with him. 

“I get the need to take control of your body.  But you gotta be safe about it.”  Kev hadn’t been happy, since he didn’t have anything else to bind his small breasts, but Steve promised to help him find a compression tee or a sports bra to tide him over until the binder arrived.

Then they’d gone back to the meeting space and settled back in.  Steve saw Bucky looking at him over Natasha’s shoulder, and he smiled and waved.  Bucky tilted his head to the side, eyebrows raised in question, and Steve just smiled, mouthing, “No worries, Buck.”  Bucky’s eyebrows rose higher at the shortening of his nickname, but before he could do anything about it, Natasha glanced over her shoulder and saw the exchange, raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow as she pursed her lips around a smile.  She waggled her fingers at Steve then, and turned her attention back to the front of the room where Peggy was talking.  Bucky’s gaze lingered a moment more on Steve, then he turned attention forward, too.

Steve had to admit that he really appreciated having straight friends who were so openly allies.  It would make getting this club off the ground so much easier, having that kind of support.

&&&

Two weeks later found the gang gearing up for the big Halloween dance at the public high school in town.  It was an annual thing where Stark Academy students were invited to get their boo on in the Potts Junction high school gymnasium; Stark reciprocated in the spring by opening their spring formal to the high school.  The shared experience brought the two schools together, and delivered on the Potts family commitment to the community.

The Friends Across the Spectrum group were planning to go to the dance as a group, accompanied by friends on both sides.  The last week had been a frenzy of coordinating costumes, freaking out over plans that didn’t quite pan out, and general mayhem in the name of Halloween and a good party.

Bucky knocked on Natasha’s door, calling out to see if she was ready to go, and found himself looking at a petite woman with huge eyelashes and even bigger hair.

“Steve?”

“That’s Ru to you,” he replied with attitude, and broke into a grin.  “You like what you see?”

“I, uh, yeah, you look great! I didn’t realize you were into, um –“

“Drag?  Yeah, not really.  But this is Kev’s first big school event , so I thought I’d doll it up and go as his faux date.  Think I’ll make all the girls jealous?” he asked, turning quickly to strike a pose, pursing his lips theatrically and blowing a kiss over his shoulder at Bucky.

“I, yeah,” Bucky breathed.  “All the girls, uh-huh,” he agreed, nodding.

“I think you broke him, Steve,” Natasha announced, coming out of the en suite bathroom.  “And I found the perfect shade to go with that wig,” she added, brandishing the lipstick like a weapon.  “Pucker up buttercup,” she ordered, and grabbed Steve’s face with one hand to put the finishing touches on his lips.  She made him smack his lips several times, and dabbed a little at the corner of his mouth with her pinky.  She scrunched her nose at him and smiled.  “There.  She’s perfect, isn’t she?” Natasha asked, turning and directing an eyebrow arched expectantly at Bucky.  Steve stood there, fluttering his big-ass lashes, hoping they didn’t fall off and land in his drink later.

“Perfect,” Bucky nodded, staring at Steve. 

Steve would be lying if he said that Bucky’s gaze didn’t start something wriggling in his guts, but he quickly reminded himself that Bucky was straight and with Natasha, and Natasha’s very red nails were still digging into his cheeks, so yeah.  Yay, straight friends!  And yes, Sam!  Sam was his boyfriend, much as sometimes it felt like Bucky should be … and present, Rogers, get your mind into the present!

“Great.  You can be my escort to the ball, then.  If Natasha doesn’t mind sharing?”

“Oh, no, he’s all yours, Ms. Thang.  I’ll be bringing up the rear, checking out your sashay, my friend,” Natasha teased.  So Steve laid it on thick, and baby, he could sell it.  He might not be into the drag scene, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t played dress up with his Ma back in the day.  Steve Rogers was more comfortable in heels than most women he’d seen.  He found his center of gravity, oriented himself, and he was off and sashaying like a champ, with Natasha giggling and egging him on as she brought up the rear.

&&&

Kev was hiding behind a strategically placed potted plant when they arrived at the high school, but Steve spotted him immediately and went over to him without another word.  He didn’t notice Bucky standing where he’d left him, or Natasha coming up behind him to take his hand and lead him into the converted gymnasium.

“You look beautiful, Steve,” Kev breathed, looking Steve up and down.

Steve stepped up to Kev and reached out, holding his palm over Kev’s heart.  Kev nodded, and Steve let his hands smooth down Kev’s chest.  “The binder got here.”

“Yeah.  Perfect fit.”

“It looks amazing, Kev.  _You_ look amazing.  I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah? My Mom, she told me that tonight.  But I could see she’d been crying.  I don’t wanna hurt my folks –“

“But you gotta be you.  From what you said, I think they’ll be okay with you being your best self.  It’s not gonna be easy.  But I gotta believe it’ll be worth it.”

“It’s easier having somebody to talk to.  I’m really glad you started the club, Steve.  I’m really glad I found you.”

“Yeah, me too.  Now, howsabout we get our groove on, huh?  This girl’s gotta dance!”

&&&

Steve was the first person to dance with Kev, but he was quickly replaced by other members of the club eager to support one of their own.  Selfies, group shots, and photos with sweet prom-esque poses followed, and Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard and so long.  He couldn’t wait to talk about it with Ma, and the wrenching reminder that she wasn’t there to hear caught him unawares.  He barely had a moment to brush away a sudden tear when his friends distracted him from his melancholy, though.  He traded off and danced with several of the group, including Peggy, Gabe, and Angie.  But when Bucky stepped up and asked if he could have the next dance, Steve wasn’t quite sure how to answer.  The music was slow, torchy, a lover’s dance.  When he started to step out of Bucky’s arms, Bucky pressed his hand against Steve’s back and said, “Stay.  We can talk with this music.”

Steve looked up at Bucky and smiled.  Yeah, okay.  He could do that.  He could let himself be held by the most beautiful boy he’d ever laid eyes on, a beautiful boy who’d always be out of reach, yet standing right there.  A beautiful boy who made his heart flutter and his tummy do weird shit, and dammit, he had a boyfriend of his own!

“I gotta tell you, Steve, what you’ve done is just amazing.  It’s only been a coupla weeks, and already you’ve made something special here.  Kev … well, Kev looks amazing.  I don’t think he woulda had the courage to do this if you hadn’t been there for him.”

“Just like you’re there for me.  Buck – when I got here, I was mourning the death of my Mom, the loss of my life as I knew it, my friends, my home, hell, almost my boyfriend.  But you stepped in and you made it easy for me.  You showed me the ropes, you introduced me to your friends.  You’ve been best pal a fella could ask for.  I couldn’t’ve done anything if it weren’t for you, Bucky.  I’m so lucky to have you in my life – and lucky Natasha lets us spend so much time together!”

“Yeah, see, I –“

“Who’s the dish?” a gravelly voice slurred, a little too close for comfort as a slab of a hand slapped across Steve’s buttock and then squeezed hard enough to bruise.

“Brock, knock it off –“ Bucky started.

“What the fuck –“ Steve demanded.

“Fuck, it’s a dude!” Slab-hand swore.

“Gentlemen,” Uncle Phil’s calm voice suddenly cut through the noise.  “Mr. Rumlow, remove your hand from my nephew’s person.  Professor Fury will escort you back to campus.  Any of your friends want a ride?”

There was a general murmur of nos, and no, sirs, and sorry fluttering around them as Uncle Phil reached around and snagged the wrist attached to the slab-hand and removed it from Steve’s ass.

“You okay, Steve?” Uncle Phil asked mildly as he nudged Slab-hand – Brock Rumlow, he guessed – toward Professor Fury. 

Fury looked balefully at the tall, scruffy looking dark-haired dude, and he tipped the kid’s head back to peer more closely.  “Any of the rest of you been drinking with Mr. Rumlow here?”

The question was met with a roiling silence, and Fury grunted.  “Fine.  All of you.  In the van.  You’ve got 30 seconds.  And we’ll talk punishment all the way back to the Academy.”

“Um, yeah,” Steve said absently, watching the Professor shepherding the group of guys – five or six, he couldn’t tell – toward the exit.  “I could’a handled that myself, Uncle Phil.”

“I’ve no doubt you would’ve had him on the ropes in no time, Steve, but part of my job here is to help keep the peace, to ensure that everyone has a good, safe time.  Preferably one that doesn’t involve flying fists of Rogers fury.”

“Hmmph.  Yeah, I still could’a taken him.”

“In those heels?  You’re a lawsuit waiting to happen, Steve,” Uncle Phil chuckled.  “Now, go on, go back to having a good time.  We’ll talk later about how Brock Rumlow is someone you want to avoid at all costs.”

Steve and Bucky turned back toward each other awkwardly.  The music had changed to something peppy and upbeat, but loud and bass-driven.  This wasn’t a talking song.  Steve grinned at Bucky, and started grooving to the beat.  Bucky had little choice but to join in.

If a moment had passed, Steve really was none the wiser.

&&&

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close! So very close! Would it be a Stuck story if they actually, y'know, communicated?
> 
> Next chapter, we see some conflict coming into the lives of our clubmembers - both from outside the group, and brewing inside. Stay with me! In the meantime, I'd love to know what you think!


	5. Fall Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not all rainbows and unicorns at Stark Academy. Like anywhere else, they've got their fair share of assholes. The difference is, this time the assholes - or rather, Asshole - has gotten themselves on Steve Rogers's radar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody needs a little Peggy Carter in their lives ...

October gave way to November, and with it daylight savings fell back, the nights grew colder, the coffee grew spicier, and the leaves burst into color and drifted down in eddies and currents along the walkways, against the corners of the terraces and balconies of the dormitories, in the stairwells and along the rooflines.  Soon the trees were bereft of their finery, and the days had grown steadily shorter, the nights ever cooler.

Steve and Bucky were spending less time together outside of classes, thanks to the fact the swim team was gearing up for their competitive season with practice meets among the four classes.  They still got together for lunch in the school cafeteria, but there was no more late night fridge foraging, since Bucky rarely came over as his schedule filled up.  They worked on homework and projects together at the library, but the window of Bucky’s free time grew smaller and smaller as the first official meets loomed closer. 

Steve felt oddly out of sorts, his precious routine with his partner in crime upended, and it left him feeling unmoored, like his connection to this place had somehow pulled free.

He tried to talk about it with Sam on one of their Skype calls, but Sam had cut him short, reminding him that Skype time was theirs, not every other damn person in his life’s.  It really seemed to bother Sam, so Steve shut up about it, reducing his commentary about his daily life to a quick update, and then he asked Sam about his day.  Sam talked, but it felt like he was holding something back, and this only served to make Steve feel even more cut off.  From Stark, from Brooklyn.  From Sam, from Bucky.

Steve was starting to feel like his shadow self was coming back, as his best pal at school, and his best guy back home seemed to move on without him.

There’d been a few aborted attempts at Skype-turbating, but the constant threat of discovery by Ororo made Sam twitchy and nervous, and finally they stopped trying. 

Steve knew there was a lot he and Sam needed to talk about when they saw each other.  Being together would fix things, he knew. Seeing each other, face to face … _touch to touch_ … he knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands to himself, he missed his man so.  They’d make everything up to one another.

At least Steve had Friends Across the Spectrum to keep him busy and in the moment.  The group was really doing well, and they met in some fashion at least once a week.  Once the intra-school meets started, they tried to have a good showing at each practice meet to cheer Bucky on as he dominated in the relay and solo 100 meter.  So some of them gathered more than once a week, and that was fine by Steve – he had the benefit of social interaction, and a really good view of Bucky _a la Speedo_ , and that was a view worth savoring, even if it did make him a bit of a creeper.  He was no different from the freshman girls who giggled over every move Bucky made, except he had more sway.   Some of Bucky’s other races were good, but they were always guaranteed an exciting relay, and practically a gimme in the 100 meter. 

The group always dragged Bucky out for burgers and milkshakes after if they could, so it was always a great bonding experience for the group, even if it meant that Steve and Bucky weren’t spending so much time together on their own.  Natasha was always there, a comfortable presence and a sly observer, and she never ordered her own burger and fries, always pilfering from Bucky’s plate, grinning at him around a full mouth of fries and ketchup, or playing football with straws and onion rings, inevitably launching at least one into Steve’s drink, as she muttered a totally insincere, “Sorry” at him.  It was hard to be mad at Nat, though – she was such a feral imp, all sass and attitude, but Steve never had the sense she was trying to be mean.

Kev had grown comfortable in his binder, and the other adjustments he’d made in how he presented himself to the world, to match how he saw himself internally.  He was getting more comfortable being himself, no longer forced to be someone he wasn’t.  He was starting to draw attention – like, flirty attention – from both sexes, and he was enjoying the possibilities even if he hadn’t acted on anything yet.  He was baby-faced enough that no one questioned the lack of facial hair.  And besides, his parents had signed off on his request for HT, and he had just started on T.  He was thrilled with the way he looked, the way he felt, finally in the right body, finally seen as who he really was. 

Steve was so proud of his new friend, he couldn’t stop grinning whenever they were together.  They’d fallen into an easy, tactile relationship, and they were often found sitting poolside holding hands and watching Bucky – and all the Speedo-clad male competitors – with avid interest.  That meant they were usually the subject of loud and obnoxious comments from that guy that Uncle Phil had warned Steve about, Brock Rumlow.

Rumlow was a senior who seemed out of place at Stark.  He had the academic standing to be there – there was speculation that he was likely to be recruited by one of the top non-Stark robotic firms right out of Stark Academy.  But where most of the students were welcoming and open, Rumlow was sneering and arrogant.  He held himself apart, except for a small group of guys who seemed to think that Brock hung the moon.  Stark Academy had its share of partying, of drug and alcohol usage.  These were teenagers, after all.  But Brock tended to overindulge outside of class, and that tended to short out his filters, just like he had at the Halloween dance in town.  At least he turned up to swim practice sober.  The same couldn’t be said for social events, so the group tended to steer clear of events that might attract him and his crowd.  Sometimes Bucky and Nat went to them without the gang, since there were certain appearances necessary to be a member of the swim team.

Uncle Phil said that Brock came from a difficult environment, and that a lot of his acting out was due to low self-esteem, but Steve had questioned why that was everybody else’s problem.  Uncle Phil didn’t have a very good answer, and Steve suspected it was Uncle Phil being sentimental about what he saw as a broken soul.  But Steve thought that Uncle Phil could be easily swayed by a sob story, having used them on him himself on more than one occasion.

They’d discussed Rumlow, as well as other students that seemed to be hostile toward any of them, at their meetings.  It was both to vent and to strategize the best response.  They’d all agreed that Rumlow lost interest pretty quickly if no one reacted, and it was suggested he did it more for attention than for actual aggression.  It was tough for Steve to stay silent when Rumlow was spewing verbal filth, but Peggy extracted a promise – a pinky swear – that he’d let it go in interest of keeping the peace.  When Steve had told Sam that he’d actually stood down – him! – from fights on multiple occasions in honor of that pinky swear, Sam had expressed interest in seeing this Peggy for himself.  Even Steve’s Ma hadn’t been able to keep Steve out of fights. 

Bucky tended to stay out of discussions about Rumlow, and Steve assumed that was because he was one of his teammates, but Steve had noticed the discussions seemed to bother him.  Steve never asked Bucky about it, just respected his silence the way he thought he should.

But when the gang came up with a strategy for dealing with Rumlow in full voice, they didn’t need to discuss him so frequently at their gatherings.  The tension around Bucky seemed to ease after that.

When Rumlow postured and strutted, letting his mouth run faster than his brain, they all pretended to be checking their social media, playing games, or otherwise occupied in a deep spiritual sense.  Mostly they were sending texts back and forth speculating on the size of his dick, and whether or not it could be seen by an electron microscope.  They might be supportive of each other, but that didn’t mean they weren’t all a bunch of little shits, each with a mean streak that Rumlow seemed to light up like Christmas.

The week before Thanksgiving saw the group at one last Stark-only meet, with the first of the inter-school practice meets happening later that week.  The real season would kick in first week of December.  Natasha had begged off joining them that afternoon, claiming a “prior engagement” that she simply couldn’t ditch.  It was unusual to be sitting in the stands, the air humid and heavy with the scent of chlorine, and not have her leaning back against the wall, popping her gum and delivering scathing commentary on the meet.  It actually felt a little like they were all faking it, not having her there to make the whole thing real.  Bucky kept glancing over to where Natasha would normally sit, and his expression seemed to indicate it didn’t feel right to him, either.

Steve wasn’t sure if friend etiquette meant he should ask about it, or keep his silence, but he knew enough not to do anything that would pull Bucky out of the zone before the competition began so he kept to his seat with the gang, keeping half an eye on Bucky, and half on the shenanigans around him.

Bucky seemed to shake it off and went through his pre-meet warm-ups, and by the time the meet started, he seemed to be fully in the zone.  He cut through the water like a dolphin, water sluicing off his undulating back and arm muscles as he powered through each of his disciplines.  He was the definition of beautiful, all sleek muscle and smooth skin, powerful strokes and graceful turns.  Steve loved to watch him in this element, like the world outside no longer existed, and Bucky became his truest self, a creature of fantasy and legend.  So what if Steve’s head went for the hyperbole?  It was his imagination, thank you very much.  If he wanted to cast Bucky as the next Aquaman in the theatre of his mind, that was his lookout.

Bucky’s last run was against Rumlow, who smirked and preened on the block while Bucky just settled into that headspace of his that helped him lose the world around him, and find the focus he needed.

Lap after lap they swam, bodies twisting and launching off the wall each time they made the turnaround.  Bucky was out in front by nearly a full body length, practically gliding toward the wall.  He launched himself out of the water and slammed his hand down on the block, his other arm pumping the air victoriously.  The whole group leapt up, screaming, laughing, pummeling each other in celebration of Bucky’s win.  It was just an intra-school meet, but still, it was a thorough drubbing of their arch-enemy, and a fabulous showing for Bucky.  He was well positioned to swim his way to the state championships.

Bucky was carefully jogging around the wet pool apron to join the gang when Steve turned to Kev and Kev grabbed Steve’s face to kiss him.  Steve’s eyes went wide and his hands came up to fend off an imaginary attacker.  It only took a few seconds for Kev to realize that Steve wasn’t kissing back, and he opened his eyes and shifted back from Steve, his hands still on Steve’s face.  The look of hurt and mortification was heartbreaking, and that’s when Steve found the will to move.  He lunged forward and wrapped Kev in his arms, hugging him tightly.  “I’m sorry.  I have a boyfriend.  Back home.  We promised we’d stay together.  Forgive me?”

“Is he pretty like you?” Kev whispered.

“Prettier.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.  I just thought …”

“I’m sorry,” Steve repeated, lifting a hand to smooth back Kev’s hair from his face.

“What the actual fuck?” thundered through the natatorium.  “The tranny and the fairy are making out during my fucking heat?  What the fuck!”

Anger boiled up inside Steve, hot and fast.  His lips pressed together in a hard line, and his hand dropped away from Kev’s face.  He was turning and moving across the wet tile before anyone realized it, and he was practically nose to pectoral with Brock Rumlow before Bucky stepped in between, and tried to block Steve with his arm.

“He’s not worth it, Steve,” Bucky hissed at Steve.  “It’s only gonna make things worse.”

“He can’t do this, Buck.  Everywhere he goes is a hostile environment.  It ain’t his right to make everyone else feel unsafe.”

“Steve,” Bucky demanded, letting his arm wrap around Steve’s chest and shoulders.  “ _Please_.”

Steve ignored how warm, how good – how _right_ – it felt to have Bucky’s naked arm wrapped around him.  Instead, he strained against Bucky’s arm, he wasn’t leaning in to Bucky’s solidity, his heat, not really.  But he did press forward, even as Rumlow taunted him, “Little fairy needs big, bad Bucky to protect him, huh?  Ain’t man enough –“

“That’s enough, Rumlow!” ordered the swim coach, Mr. Sitwell, storming over from where he’d been discussing something with Ms. Hill, the ladies swim coach.  “Hit the showers.  We’ll talk about your shit attitude later.  For now, you’re suspended from the first intramural meet.  Your ass will be warming the bench while your teammates take gold.  Barnes, collect your friends and hit the road.  Take your angry Chihuahua with you.”  Coach Sitwell came over and leveled Bucky and Steve with a serious gaze.  “Maybe it would be better if you kids didn’t come to every meet, huh?”

“No!  We’re here to support our friend, and to support the school.  You can’t bar us from attending school events,” Steve protested.

“Steve –“ Bucky started, letting his arm drop away.

“No.  I’m gonna talk to my uncle about this – this isn’t right.  He should not be able to talk to us like that, especially not on school property.  What about the frigging Stark code of conduct, huh?”

“Well, you and your boyfriend were provocative –“

“My _friend_ kissed me.  My _boyfriend_ lives in Brooklyn.  And it was just a little kiss, a spur of the moment thing celebrating how awesome Bucky’s win was.  How is that provocative?”

“Well, two guys –“

“Shit, no, do _not_ go there.  I am definitely talking to my uncle about this.  Stark is supposed to be an inclusive school.  Would you kick out a guy and a girl making out?”

“They shouldn’t be doing that during a sporting event –“

“Would.  You.  Kick.  Them.  Out?”

“Well, I –“

“I’ll ask my uncle to set up a meeting so we can discuss this at greater length, Coach.  C’mon, Buck, go get dressed so we can go out for burgers.”

“I’m … I’m gonna just head back to my dorm, Steve.  I’ll catch you later.”

“But, Buck, we’re celebrating your win –“

“I said I’ll catch you _later_ , Steve.  Coach,” he nodded toward the swim coach, and walked away.

“Buck, wha –“

“Let ‘im go, Rogers.  You caused enough ruckus today.  He’s wiped out – he knows his body better than you do.  If he wants quiet time, let ‘im have quiet time.  And yeah, set something up with your uncle – we can talk about your attitude in depth then.”

Steve was seething by the time he turned back to the others, who were standing around awkwardly, glancing between him and where Bucky had disappeared into the showers.

“So, is Barnes meeting us or what?” Gabe asked from where he lounged against the pull-out bleachers, his arm draped around Peggy’s shoulders.

“Or what.  He’s not coming.”

“Oh.  Coach wasn’t very cause-friendly, was he,” Peggy surmised, arching a perfect eyebrow in judgment of the departing back of the swim coach.

“No.  He said we caused a ruckus by being ‘provocative’.  If I’d had my tongue down some girl’s tonsils, he wouldn’a looked twice.  But because it’s two guys … I told him I’m talking to Uncle Phil.  Rumlow was out of line, and so was Coach.”

“Steve, I’m sorry –“ Kev started, but Steve shook his head vehemently.  Kev nodded and chewed on his lip, his fingers plucking at the ends of his sleeves.

“And Barnes?” Peggy pressed.

“He didn’t say why, but Coach said he was wiped out, needed some downtime.  I don’t … I don’t think that’s what it was, though.”

“Well, maybe you and Barnes need to have a private conversation, Steve.”

“He’s always busy with the swim team lately.  I hardly ever see him outside of class or project time.  And now with the Thanksgiving break, the swim season starting … shit.”

“You’ll just have to figure out how to make the time.  Now, isn’t that gorgeous boyfriend of yours coming in this weekend for dinner with the fam?  When does he arrive?  And when do we get to meet him?”

“He’s only coming in for the holiday –“

“Excellent.  I’m staying on campus, some of us are doing a Friendsgiving dinner.  You can introduce us over leftovers.  You’re coming, too, right, Kev?”

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the complete chapters, and I'll be working later today to polish off chapter 6 so it can be posted on Sunday. All of the chapters are sketched out, and for several of them, I've got whole scenes and big chunks written already, just need to finish the connective tissue and polish.
> 
> Next chapter will feature a heartbreak. And a possibility. Stick with me!


	6. Give Thanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the reality of separation catches up with Steve and his boyfriend, as their extended family celebrates Thanksgiving together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough chapter to complete, more so than I expected. Gonna grab a few hours' sleep and dive into the next chapter, which opens the doors to possibilities ...

Drs. Banner and Ross volunteered to collect their guest at the train station, and so Sam arrived after noon on Thanksgiving Day, with a fully-packed backpack and an intriguing insulated box.  They still had some errands of their own to run before joining the Coulson-Rogers clan for the holiday feast, so they waved at Steve from their car as they pulled away from the curb, leaving Sam and Steve to look at each other across the threshold as Steve tugged Sam into the house and let the door close behind him.

“Is _that …_?” Steve asked reverently, his mouth watering in anticipation.

Sam cocked his hip out and gave Steve an incredulous look.  “I promised, didn’t I?”

A grin burst across Steve’s face as he turned around and yelled, “Uncle Phil!  We have cranberry custard!”

Uncle Phil’s chuckle preceded him into the living room, where he came up to Sam and put both hands out – one to take the pie (no doubt so Steve didn’t run off with it and eat it whole), and the other to shake Sam’s hand.  Sam gave in to both.  “Steve has been talking about nothing but that pie, I’ll have you know.  It’s good to see you again, Sam, come on in, let’s get you settled so you can relax before dinner.”

The house smelled great.  Uncle Phil might be a lifelong bachelor, but he hadn’t survived on TV dinners and takeout all these years.  He was actually a pretty great cook, and he loved to cook for holidays.  More than once, Ma had let him take over the holiday meal, and the results had been food coma-worthy.  It had been especially nice the past couple of years, when preparing big meals was just beyond Ma’s capabilities.  In the here and now, it felt unexpectedly familiar and comfortable, and Steve was grateful for the years that Uncle Phil had been there at the holidays.  It made this one a little easier, even if he found himself looking around every so often, searching for Ma.

Now, the bird roasted merrily in the oven, the potatoes were ready to be mashed, and the yams and veggies were all in various stages of doneness.  Fresh bread was cooling on the counter, ready to be sliced when it was cool enough, and Steve had already made the salad, covering the bowl and letting it settle in the fridge.  And now with the cranberry custard pie along with the pumpkin pie they’d picked up at the bakery, the feast was nearly complete.

While Uncle Phil hid the cranberry custard pie away where Steve couldn’t eat it before the meal, Steve showed Sam to the guest room, which was still half full of the contents of his old apartment in Brooklyn.  Sam set his backpack down next to the bed, and turned to look at the neat stack of boxes taking up a full wall in the room.

“Damn, you brought everything, huh?”

“Uncle Phil did.  He had the movers pack up everything, and he’s giving me time to go through it all at my own pace.  It sucks that I’m not back home in Brooklyn, but if I had to end up with somebody, I’m lucky it was him, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can see that,” Sam replied, shifting awkwardly, still looking at the boxes, but not at Steve.

Steve took a tentative step toward him, laid a gentle hand on his hip, and tugged slightly.  “So, um, aren’t you gonna say hello?  Properly?”

“Huh?” Sam asked, turning, his face a confusion of emotions.

Steve stepped closer still, cupping Sam’s elbow in his hand, letting his fingers trail up Sam’s arm.  “I’ve missed you, baby.  Don’t believe what he said about the pie.  All I’ve been thinkin’ about is having my sexy boyfriend right here, right now.  So.  _Hello_ ,” Steve said, moving close enough he could feel the chill still clinging to Sam’s skin. He smiled as he leaned in to brush his lips across Sam’s.  “You’re cold.  Let me warm you up.”

“Hi,” breathed Sam.

“Hi,” Steve grinned, tilting his head to press a proper kiss against Sam’s mouth, his hands moving up to curl one around his nape, the other to press against the small of his back, drawing him closer.  “I’ve been dreaming of this for weeks, baby,” he whispered.  “I can’t believe it’s been six months.  I’ve missed you so much.”

They exchanged warm, sweet kisses for several minutes, standing right there in the guest room, surrounded by Steve’s history.  Gradually, Sam pulled back to breathe.  “I’ve missed you, too, Steve,” Sam agreed, smiling.  “Home doesn’t feel right without you.  I can’t believe we’re not gonna graduate together.”

“Yeah, but maybe we can plan to go to colleges near each other, maybe even live together off campus.  Uncle Phil told me he started a college fund for me when my Dad died.  There’s enough to send me anywhere I wanna go.”

“Wow, yeah, that would be incredible,” Sam agreed, dropping onto the bed to sit, looking up at Steve.

“You look really beat.”

“I’ve been traveling on Thanksgiving Day.”

“Yeah, if I had any doubts you loved me, that took care of ‘em.  Look. Tony Stark and Ms. Potts won’t be here for another hour.  And Dr. Banner and Dr. Ross’ll be getting back about then.  Why don’t you take a nap until they get here, I’ll wake you when they do? From what Uncle Phil says, you’re definitely gonna wanna have your wits about you with Tony.”

“Tony Stark.  _The_ Tony Stark.”

“Apparently he has nowhere else to go on Thanksgiving, so he’s joining us.  You’ll like Dr. Banner though.  He’s pretty cool.  And Dr. Ross is a hoot.”

“Yeah, they were pretty nice on the ride over.  You’re right – she’s a firecracker.  He seems kinda quiet, though.  But you know – a nap sounds good.”  Sam reached out and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, drawing him close so he could rest his head against Steve’s tummy.  ‘I really am happy to see you, Steve.  It’s been too long.”

“Yeah, but you’re here now,” Steve answered, dropping a kiss on the crown of Sam’s head, resting his arms around Sam’s shoulders for a long moment.  Then he straightened, and pushed Sam lightly back on the bed, then started walking backward toward the door.  “I’ve got you for the whole weekend.  And trust me … I have _plans_ …” he grinned wickedly as he ducked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

&&&

Dinner was livelier than any that Steve remembered back home.  Dr. Banner had a quiet but wicked sense of humor, and Dr. Ross was hysterical.  They both encouraged Steve and Sam to call them by their first names, since they were guests in Steve’s home, and Steve struggled to do just that.  Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts – who both insisted on being called Tony and Pepper – were a study in contrasts.  Where Mr. Stark – Tony – was broad strokes and bold statements, Ms. Potts – Pepper – was precision strikes and intimate gestures.

“Y’know, your uncle told me about your shenanigans at school.  Brucie, here, too.  Ballsy move, just starting at a new school, and taking on the establishment like you have.”

“Tony, Steve’s not tipping at windmills here.  And it’s not like anyone fought him over starting the group – “

“That Rumlow guy apparently tried to stop it in student council,” Steve interrupted.  “Peggy told me.”

“So she did trust you enough to tell you the truth.  I’m glad.  You guys will be more successful at running the organization that way.  Keeping you in the dark would have been pointless.”

“Sounds like he’s kind of a problem.  Has been for a while.  How come nobody’s done anything about him?”

“You’re assuming nothing’s been done.  I’ve spoken to him a number of times, as has Dr. Banner.  We’ve recommended him for sensitivity training, and –“

“In the meantime, he uses words to wound, and his body to intimidate.  I wasn’t kidding when I told Coach Sitwell that he makes the environment hostile, that he makes people feel unsafe –“

“Now, see, this is what I’m talking about,” Tony interrupted.  He turned toward Sam, and said, ‘You must be very proud to be dating a warrior like this young’un.  If there had been someone like you when I was going to the Academy, I wonder how my life might have been different.”

“Wait, you went to Stark Academy?”

“I wouldn’t be stretching the truth too much – or at all – to say that Dad founded the school so I’d have someplace to go.  I got kicked out of four schools before he had the bright idea of building his own place for me.”

“Tony, we met when you were eight years old,” Bruce put in, clearly shocked.

“Yes, well, some of us start early,” he replied smugly.

“Getting kicked out of four top flight schools in the space of three years is nothing to be proud of, Tony,” Pepper pointed out mildly, then went back to chasing the peas on her plate.

“It depends on your measure of success, my love.  So, yeah, dear old made me a school.  It was better than other schools – he hired some really kickass teachers, and gave them one instruction.  Challenge me.  Challenge everyone.  That’s what I needed, to be challenged.  But at the same time, if there had been people like you around, Stevie, I would have come to a greater understanding of my own sexuality a lot sooner than I did.  I can think of some mistakes I wouldn’t mind having not made …”

“But all your experience leads to who you are today,” Betty put in with a smile.  
  
“Could’a done without a few of those STDs, actually.”

Uncle Phil looked like he was about to open his mouth – no doubt to say something like, “Not in front of the children.”  But he glanced over at Steve and simply smiled that gentle smile of his, raising his eyebrows in question.  Steve shrugged, and that seemed to satisfy Uncle Phil.

“What about you, Sam?  Got any mistakes you’d like to erase?”

“Well, I, uh –“

“Don’t gang up on the new kid, Tony,” Uncle Phil admonished without heat.  There almost seemed to be a habitual rhythm to the statement, and Steve looked from Uncle Phil to Tony and back again.

“Were you a bully?” Steve asked Tony.

“A bully?  I’d like to think not.  I’d like to think I challenged people.  What do you say, Bruce?”

“I say … I say you weren’t sure how to fit in, or even if you wanted to.  You struggled, like every kid does, to find your place.  To discover who you are.”

“Oh, that sounds boring, doesn’t it?  Makes me sound like every other shmoe on the planet.  But yeah, trying to figure out who I was.  I got lucky.  I didn’t just get a school and a lifelong friend.  I got a good teacher, too,” he added with a meaningful look at Uncle Phil.

“Uncle Phil?  You taught here, too?”

“I’ve been at Stark Academy since its inception.  Howard and I designed the school together, in many ways.”

“Give yourself credit, Phil.  Dad gave you a blank check, told you to build a school around me.  You knew me better than I knew myself, designed the place to challenge and inspire.”

“Well, you took it upon yourself to challenge others, but not in the way I’d intended –“

“Tony would greet every new student at the school, question their CV, and demand they prove they had a right to be here,” Bruce put in.

“And what did you do to prove you belonged?” Betty asked sweetly, her eyes twinkling.  Steve expected she knew what the answer was, and liked to tease Bruce about it.

“I punched him in the nose and told him it was none of his goddamned business,” Bruce answered sheepishly.

“And I had never had anyone my own age stand up to me.  It was love at first sight.”  He turned to Bruce and looked at him warmly.  “It really was, you know.  You were one of my first crushes, only I didn’t really understand it at the time.”

“I, um, wow, I never knew.  I’m, uh … flattered?”

Tony nodded.  “As well you should be.  See, this is why we needed you, Steve.  Why your classmates need you now.  It took me years to figure out that I was bisexual, and having friends who understood that would’ve been a good thing – a great thing! – when I was your age.  I might’ve avoided some of my stupider mistakes over the years.  But then I wouldn’t be who I am today, and I might never have met Pepper.”

“Well, I could have done without some of those bail hearings over the years, but all in all, things have worked out quite satisfactorily,” Pepper said, grinning down at her plate.

&&&

The meal went on for some time, ending with the array of pies, cakes, and other desserts that everyone had provided.  Steve allowed slivers of the cranberry custard pie to be doled out to everyone, but made sure there was a significant portion remaining after everyone had their sweets.  Uncle Phil found the whole thing hilarious, and had to stare Steve down before he’d relinquish the pie to his uncle.  Uncle Phil promised him he was putting it away for safekeeping, and would not allow anyone else to have access to it without Steve’s knowledge. 

After everyone had had their fill, Uncle Phil made up goodie bags for their guests to take home with them, and Sam and Steve took over kitchen duty to take care of the dishes and put everything away.  Then they all reconvened around the dining room table for a final cup of coffee or herbal tea before everyone dispersed.

Tony made some comments about buying Steve a bakery for his birthday the following summer, and Bruce suggested that maybe he needed to add a cooking as chemistry course so they could deconstruct the pie recipe.  Steve glared at them all as they laughed at his pie obsession, but when Sam held up a slip of paper and waved it in front of Steve’s face, the room went quiet.

“Is that … ?” Uncle Phil asked softly.

“The recipe.  My Gran likes Steve.  She’s never shared this outside the family before.  But for Steve, my Gran is soft in the head.”

Steve snatched the recipe out of his hands, and handed it to Uncle Phil.  “Can you make that?” he asked urgently.

Uncle Phil read it in silence, dragging the suspense out far longer than was necessary before he nodded, once and decisively.   

“Oh good.  I thought Steve was going to blow a blood vessel if you couldn’t.  Well, this has been great, thanks, Phil,” Bruce announced, pushing himself back from the table.

“Yeah, if this is how the other half lives, it’s not so bad.  I guess.  My place next year,” Tony announced with a grin at Pepper.

“Which place is that, Tony?” Uncle Phil asked.

“Whichever one you want.  We’ll chat, hmmm?  And Steve, I meant what I said.  What you’re doing?  It’s good.  It’s important.  Keep it up.”

&&&

“Wow, so Tony Stark thinks what you’re doing here is important,” Sam commented as Steve led him up the stairs to his room as the adults dispersed down below.

“I just couldn’t believe a school like this didn’t have a club for people like us.  No representation at all!” Steve said as he opened the door and pulled Sam in behind him.  He let the door close with a snick as he crowded Sam up against the door and kissed him hungrily.  “Fuck, Sammy, I can’t take another minute without kissing you!”

Sam seemed to be equally enthusiastic for the first few kisses, then pulled himself away, gasping, his hands coming to rest on Steve’s chest as he gently pushed him away.  “Let a guy catch his breath, Steve!”

“Damn, I couldn’t wait for dinner to end,” Steve said, leaning in to kiss up the side of Sam’s neck.

Sam chuckled and nudged him away.  “Should’n’a had two pieces of Gran’s pie, then.”

“If I couldn’t have you, I was having pie.  All the pie.  Now, I want _you_ ,” Steve added, following Sam into the center of his room.

“Geeze, this is as big as your old apartment,” Sam breathed, glancing around him. 

“You should see it in the daylight.  The sun just fills the air, it’s the perfect studio space.  Uncle Phil says he didn’t plan it that way, but the first time he saw it, he knew this was gonna be my room someday.”  Steve flung himself on the bed, bouncing a little, then settling in with an attempt at a seductive pose.  “Play your cards right, and you might get to see it when you wake up.  Y’know, next to me.”  He patted the bed next to him for emphasis, smiling hopefully at Sam.

But Sam was wandering around the room, looking at Steve’s stuff.  He paused by the photos shoved into the frame of the mirror on the wall, and reached a hand out to take one out.  “This you?” he asked, nodding toward the image of Steve in drag next to Kev at the Halloween dance.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled, sitting up and scooting down the bed.  “I’m a fabulous queen, don’t you think?  A little pale to be Ms. Ru, but I think I channeled her fierceness just right,” he added with a flounce.  “That was a good night.  Don’t plan on doing it again anytime soon, unless it’s for a good cause.”  He reached out grabby hands to Sam, whining, “You’re too far away, baby.  Bring it on home.”

“Who’s the guy in the photo with you?”  


“That’s Kev,” Steve answered with a shrug.

“You’re new fella.”

“My new _friend_.  I got a fella, and he is fine.  Even if he is too far away.  C’mon, Sam, it’s been six months – I wanna cuddle.  Kiss.  Fool around.”

“Kev, huh.  You guys sure look like a couple.”

Sam’s attitude was starting to set off alarm bells for Steve, and he started to watch him warily.  “Well, we’re not.  I’ve told you about Kev – how he came to our first meeting about to pass out from the Ace bandage he was using instead of a binder?  He’s part of the gang. Haven’t you been listening?”

“I thought you might be talking about your new fella, Steve.  You seem really into him.”

“I’d never cheat on you, Sam, you know that.  I’m proud of Kev.  That picture?  It was taken the night Kev came out publicly as trans.  Full on balls to the wall, in public, who he was meant to be.  How could I not be proud?  Now, come on – it’s been six months!  I really need more kissing, more touching, and a hell of a lot less talking, baby –“

“Steve.  _Stop_.”

“Sam?”

“You’re not comin’ home, are you?  I mean, you’re settling in here, you’re starting clubs – you’re making a life here.”

“Yeah, because I have to!  I’m stuck here until I graduate.  I might as well make the best of it and do some good while I’m here.”

“But are you coming back to New York to live?  I don’t think so.”

“I’d always planned to, Sam.  I told you we could start making plans about colleges, off-campus living together.  Making friends here doesn’t mean I can’t go home.  Making friends here means I don’t go batshit crazy from loneliness, know what I mean?”

“I … I met someone, Steve.”

“What the fuck, Sam.  We promised to stay true to each other.”

“I didn’t mean it.  I mean, I meant the promise, but I didn’t mean to meet someone else.  We just started talking, and we connected, you know?”

“You came here for Thanksgiving, let my uncle buy you a ticket, and you’re cheating on me?”

“I’ll pay your uncle for the ticket, Steve.  I’m not cheating, not really.  We’re just talking.  But there’s something there.  Something I’d like to explore.  He’s _there_ , Steve.”

“And I’m not.  I thought what we had was real, Sam.  I thought … I thought you were the one.  And you couldn’t even make it six months without dumping me.”

“I’m not dumping you –“

“Then what are you doing?  Huh?  You wanna do a long distance relationship, with someone else on the side?  Or am I the dirty little secret?  Oh my God, that’s why you stopped Skype fapping with me! “

“Steve –“

“Look, I can’t do this.  You’re set up in the guest suite downstairs.  You should plan on heading home tomorrow.  Thank your Gran for the pie.  You were my best friend, Sam.  And the love of my life.”

“We can still be friends –“

“No.  No, I don’t think so.  My best friend would have been honest with me.  Would’a talked this through.  I didn’t know you were so concerned about how soon I was coming back to New York.  You never said.  You just made assumptions and punished me for things I didn’t even know bothered you.  If you’d’a asked, Sam, if you’d’a been honest with me, I would’a told you I always planned to go home.  I just gotta stay here until I graduate.  I think Uncle Phil needs me even more than I need him.  He lost his family when Ma died, too.  We’re all we got left.  So, go home, Sam.  Go home to – what’s his name?”

“Riley.  Riley Peterson.  He’s –“

“I don’t give a fuck.  Goodbye, Sam.”  Steve opened his door and waited for Sam to walk out.

“Steve –“

“ _Goodbye_.” 

After Sam exited Steve’s room, Steve dragged his warmest pullover on, grabbed his winter coat, Harry Potter scarf, and snuggly mittens, and trotted down the stairs.  He knocked on Uncle Phil’s door and poked his head in.

“Sam cheated on me.  We broke up.  I’m going out for a while.”

“Wait, what?”

“I need to clear my head.  He’s going home tomorrow.  I don’t ever want to see him again.”

“Wait, do you think that’s wise?”

“Him going home?  Yeah.”

“No, you going out.  It’s freezing out there, Steve.”

“Harry’ll protect me,” he answered, lifting the edge of the Gryffindor muffler.

“I’m here when you’re ready.” 

“I know you are.  I’m not.  Not yet.  I’ll be back soon.  Don’t worry.”

&&&

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to maintain a relationship when you're separated by distance, and to some extent, culture. Technology is great, but if the parties aren't cognizant of its limitations and set ground rules in place, you can have the illusion of communication without ever saying anything meaningful.
> 
> I'd like to think that sometime in the future, Steve and Sam might reconcile their friendship. 
> 
> Next chapter, another friend steps up to support Steve in this difficult time. I wonder who ... ?
> 
> And yeah, I'm still searching for recipes. I think I'm going to have to adapt one or two to fit what I'm looking for ...


	7. Solace a la Mode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which new points of view help Steve figure out that sometimes you have to take a step back to see the big picture, and some things are worth fighting for. Perspective and context ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to thank the folks who've commented, especially on last chapter, because you gave me some great insight on how to tweak this chapter. I really like the way it came out.

It had been a long day, and truth be told, Steve felt exhausted.  He should be curled in a fetal position, in bed, crying his eyes out over Rocky Road from Calloway Farms.  Instead, he was doing a turtle impression inside his winter coat as he trudged through the frosty leaves that littered the sidewalks, the crunch and skitter accompanying his passage.  The stars swept across the night sky even though it was barely 7 p.m., and the street lights – old-fashioned, mimicking old-timey gaslights – cast warm circles of light at regular intervals.

He had no fears here, no worries that someone might be lurking in the darkness with a blade, a needle, a gun poised to take him out.  Things like that didn’t happen in Potts Junction.  But heartbreak did.

Betrayal did.

Part of him could understand Sam looking.  Seeing.  Being tempted.  Even giving into the temptation.  Over a hundred miles separated them on an average day, and an urban vs. very suburban – almost rural – culture clash.  There was no subway here, no creative graffiti or vehicular congestion.  There were no apartment buildings boasting thousands of residents.  Hell, there were more people living in his old apartment building that there were in Potts Junction and the land in a ten mile radius of town. 

It was different here.  And Steve was beginning to understand that he was becoming different here.

But Sam just assumed.  He made all these decisions about their relationship and their future, without ever once checking in, asking, involving Steve in any way in those decisions.

It stank.  It hurt.  And dammit, it made him mad.

He crossed the main drag and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the lights shining from the L&L, the sign blinking “Open” over the door.  Heck, he could even see Angie puttering around inside, serving coffee to a few people at the counter, waving to an older couple in a booth.

It hadn’t even occurred to him that nothing might be open on this, Thanksgiving evening.  But he was grateful the L&L had terrible employee benefits and stayed open when most places would have allowed their employees the day off to spend with family.

The bell chimed cheerily as he entered into the warmth of the diner, and Angie looked up from where she dispensed coffee, grinning at him.  She winked and nodded her head toward the row of booths lining the outside wall, and Steve nodded back, unwinding Gryffindor as he shucked out of his jacket.  Both were hung carefully on the coat hook next to the seat, and then he slid into the booth with a sigh that was almost content.

He’d been here just over six months.  How had this little place become so comfortable, so safe, in so short a time?

“So, what’ll it be, Hot Stuff?” Angie asked, hitching her hip against the edge of the table, and holding the coffee pot up for inspection.  “Hi-test or decaf?”

“Hi-test, I think,” Steve answered glumly, nudging the white porcelain coffee mug closer so she could pour out the fragrant elixir.

“So, I’m guessin’ since you’re here by your lonesome, and lookin’ like someone kicked you in the balls, I might add, that there’s trouble in paradise?  You and your fella hit a snag?”

“We broke up.”

She immediately set the coffee pot down on the table and scooted into the seat across from him.  “On Thanksgiving?”

“It’s just another holiday, y’know.  But he came all the way from New York – my uncle paid for his ticket – only to tell me he didn’t think I was ever coming back to New York to live.  And that he found someone else.”

“Wow  That took courage.”

“Huh?”

“To come to your house, to tell you face to face.  That took courage.  He must really care about you, Steve.”

“No, that’s the point – he found somebody else – “

“If he didn’t care, you would’a got a ‘dear Steve’ e-mail.  Maybe a text.  A good old fashioned, ‘it’s not you it’s me’ ration of horseshit.  Instead, he came to you and told you directly.  I’m guessing you didn’t take it so well, huh?”

“I told him I never wanted to see him again.  I told him to go home to New York tomorrow.”

“Ouch.  So, did you guys ever talk about the future?”

“We didn’t really have time before I left New York.  And I guess I thought it was understood.  That when I could, I’d go home.  To Brooklyn.”

“So, what, he was thinking the opposite?  You’re a Potts Junction boy, through and through, never gonna go back to the big city?  Well, hell, here I was hoping we’d be roommates when I storm Broadway.  I was planning on you showin’ me the sights.”

“No, I planned to go back, I did.  For college.  Just not right now.”

“I’m a little older, right?  Peggy is 18, Gabe is just shy of 19.  I’m 20.  I graduated when I was 18.  I gotta tell ya, Steve, the two years since I graduated?  Seems like a lifetime.”

“Are you trying to give me advice, Angie Martinelli?”

“Nah.  I’m just angling for a good tip.  How’m I doin?”

Steve took a sip of his coffee and closed his eyes, letting the warmth spread across his tongue and down his throat.  He breathed in the aroma and held it for a moment before releasing his breath in a steady stream.  “Okay, I guess,” Steve said.  “You think I overreacted.”

“I think you reacted like Steve Rogers.  But I also know a Steve Rogers who’s full of compassion and kindness.  Ask yourself – do you really want to lose him from your life for good?  Over what is really a misunderstanding?”  She levered herself up and picked up the coffee pot, preparing to go back to work.  “Y’want something with that coffee?  Pie?”

“Oh, God, no.  No more pie.  Damn, even pie is ruined for me right now.  No.  Um … got any of that Dutch apple cake?  Oooh, and tall glass of milk.”

“Want it heated?”

Steve looked at her like he’d just fallen under the most amazing love spell, and she grinned at him.  “Comin’ right up,” she told him, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

He smiled into his coffee as she went back to the counter and the kitchen beyond the swinging doors. He didn’t have to watch her to know that she moved with sass and authority because she always did.  For a brief moment, Steve felt the flare of happiness in his found family here in Potts Junction.  He missed his friends in Brooklyn.  He missed who he and Sam used to be.  But he’d found a remarkable group of people who not only accepted him for who he was, they encouraged him to be his best self.

He was startled from his reverie by the sound of the bell chiming over the door, a sudden gust of cold air, and the sound of boots crossing the linoleum. 

“You’re here.  You’re safe,” he heard someone say, and he turned to find himself looking up into the worried face of Bucky Barnes.

&&&

Angie had delivered two thick slices of oven-warmed Dutch apple cake with two scoops of Calloway Farms homemade vanilla ice cream, with towering spirals of fresh-made whipped cream, along with a cup of hot chocolate, also topped with a prodigious amount of whipped cream, and Steve’s glass of milk.  Steve had taken one sniff of Bucky’s hot chocolate, and turned pleading puppy dog eyes on Angie.  It took about half a second for her to relent and promise she’d be right back with his sugar-loaded hot beverage.  

Once Angie delivered Steve’s hot chocolate, both he and Bucky tucked into their desserts like they each hadn’t just eaten a massive holiday feast only hours before.

“Uncle Phil call you?” Steve asked around a mouthful of sinfully good apple cake, the apples cooked just the right amount, with just the right tartness to offset the cinnamony sweetness.

Bucky took a swig of his hot chocolate, getting a blob of whipped cream on his nose.  Steve fought down the urge to reach across and take it off with his thumb – or his tongue – and mimed to Bucky that he had something on his nose.  Bucky swiped at it and brought away the dollop of cream, licking it off his fingers with a grin.  “Actually, I came by your house.  I realized I left things kind of shitty with you at the meet.”

“So you came to my house on Thanksgiving night?”

“I just got back to campus.  Y’know, from turkey day with the fam.”

“How was it?”

“You know – _turkey day with the fam_.  Everybody’s batshit crazy.  Couldn’t wait to get back here, away from the nuthouse.”

“Still, must be nice, seeing your folks –“

“Yeah, sure.  Dad’s too busy to do more than put in an appearance.  And Mom’s too caught up in her girlfriend – that’s personal assistant to anyone outside the inner circle – to notice she still has kids.  It was nice to see Becca, though.  She graduated from here a couple of years ago, she’s up at Columbia now, so I don’t see her often.”

“So, Stark Academy is a family tradition, huh?”

“Well, just us two.  Place looks like it’s been here forever, but – “

“I learned it was created so Tony Stark would have a school that couldn’t throw him out.  And Uncle Phil helped design the school.”

“Betting that means he had you in mind when he did it, too.  Maybe that’s why you fit in so well,” Bucky added with a broad smile.

“Yeah, maybe.  Except apparently I’ve fit in too well,” Steve answered glumly, chasing a whipped cream covered slice of apple around his plate.

“Too well?  Why?  Who said that?”

“Sam.  He decided I was fitting in too well so of course I’m never planning to go back home to New York.  So he found himself a new boyfriend.”

Bucky’s fork stopped, poised just in front of his open mouth, as he sputtered, “You gotta be shitting me!  You guys were solid.  I mean, the way you talked –“

“Apparently it’s been bothering him for a while.  But he didn’t say anything.  Until today.  And he’s already found somebody new.  So I told him we’re done.  He’s heading back tomorrow.”

“You told him to leave, huh?  Man, that’s rough.  But are you sure?  Really sure you want to just cut him off like that?”

“What, is everybody on his side?  Angie asked the same thing –“

“It takes a lot of guts to tell someone to their face when something’s wrong.  I mean, it sucks, but … is it really something you discuss over Skype, or the phone, or a text?  He waited until he could face you, man to man –“

“But he never told me there was a problem.  He never gave me a chance to fix it!”

Bucky’s free hand shot out and grabbed Steve’s, closed around his fingers, and squeezed.  Steve felt electricity crackle through the contact, and he lifted his eyes to stare into Bucky’s, instinctively looking for a flash of recognition there.  But Bucky was looking at him with some other emotion, a gentle concern, not a bolt of connection and arousal like Steve felt.  Steve pushed the feelings down.  He was on edge, emotional after the scene with Sam.  He was imagining things.  Bucky was a good friend, and so was Natasha.  Steve squeezed back, accepting Bucky’s _friendly_ gesture.

“Steve, it sucks, I know.  But you gotta talk to Sam.  Y’gotta find out just where he was coming from.  Maybe he had a good reason – _to him_ – to not say anything sooner.  You told me you guys have been friends since what –“

“Pre-school.  We met in pre-school.  His Ma and mine both worked at the same hospital.  We were in the hospital daycare together.”

“Yeah, okay.  So you got a lot of history.  You really sure you’re ready to toss that in the shitter?”

Steve let go of Bucky’s hands and reached for his mug instead, taking a sip as he tried to sort through the tangled skein of emotions that was tightening his chest.  Bucky was right, Steve had a lifetime of Sam’s friendship.  They’d been boyfriends for a little more than a year, but they’d been friends for 13 years before that.  And it was true that they’d never talked through any ground rules for their relationship after Ma died.

“I don’t know,” Steve finally admitted in a small voice.

“Y’know, there’s a good chance he didn’t confront you with anything sooner out of respect.”

“Respect?”

“You’re in mourning, Steve.  Y’know, maybe he felt it was too much to ask of you.  Under the circumstances.”

Now that was a perspective Steve hadn’t considered.  It didn’t change the fact that he hurt all over and still wanted to wrap himself up like a burrito and cry for three weeks while polishing off gallon after gallon of ice cream. 

Trying to be respectful of his grief sounded more like Sam than being a cheating asshole.

And the truth was, even if he planned to move back to New York for college, he still had two years here at Stark before that happened.

Was he being fair to Sam to ask him to wait?

He looked into Bucky’s eyes, calm seas under a gray sky, and wondered if he was being fair to himself to hold himself in reserve for Sam.

“Yeah, maybe.”  He downed the rest of his hot chocolate and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the chocolate mustache.  Bucky handed him a napkin then, smiling.  Steve wiped his face off properly.  “No matter what, we’re officially over as boyfriends.  But yeah, maybe there is something there to salvage.  As friends.”

“Sam’s a lucky guy, then,” Bucky said softly.

“Y’know, I’ve missed this.  You’n’me, hanging out.  You’ve been so busy with the team –“

“And you’ve been so busy with the club –“

“Not to mention Natasha –“

“Yeah, let’s not mention Natasha,” Bucky agreed, brows furrowing.  Steve waited a beat, wondering what Bucky meant by that, but he didn’t elaborate, and his expression warned Steve not to ask.  “Y’know, but Kev –“

“He needs a friend right now,” Steve protested with a grin.

“I could use a friend right about now, too,” Bucky concluded with an answering grin.

“Me, too.  And you got one, Buck.  Just like I know I do, too.  Told you before, I don’t know how I’d’ve got through the past six months without you.”  Steve reached for Bucky’s hands again, took them in his and squeezed, hard.  Bucky squeezed back, smiling warmly at Steve.

“Me, too, Steve.  Me, too.”

&&&

Steve knocked quietly on the door, and pressed his ear against the wood, listening for sounds within.  He heard the rustle of fabric moving, the sound of feet touching the floor, of shuffling coming closer, the doorknob turning … He stepped back and squared his shoulders as Sam opened the door, standing there bleary-eyed in his soft gray pajamas.  His face was puffy, like he’d been crying, and Steve felt a sudden urge to pull him into his arms, and hug him with everything he had.

Instead, he stood there, trying to look non-threatening and open.

“Steve?”

“Can we talk?” Steve asked.  Sam nodded, a tentative smile forming as he stepped back to allow Steve to come in.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, where I live in Pennsylvania, we have a couple of farms that make their own ice cream. One of the few real perks of living in Nowhere, PA. And that Dutch apple cake? I do have a recipe, and I will share it as soon as I track it down. And then I'm going to have to make it, because I am totally craving it now!
> 
> Yep, I'm planning to add recipes at the end of the story ...


	8. The Miracles of Modern Communication and the Tragedies of Still Getting it Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam and Steve finally figure out what they are to each other, Steve finds a new equilibrium, and learns to stand up for himself along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I changed the rating on the story to Mature, because this chapter has some sexual content. It's not explicit, but it's there.
> 
> And before anyone says that there should be a tag for Underage Sex, the legal age of consent in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania is 16. The two characters involved in the scene are both 17.
> 
> Also, I'm probably going to delay posting the next chapter by a day or so. I have social plans, and this next chapter is kinda whipping my ass. It's the chapter where everything comes to a head, so yeah, it's kinda important. But never fear, the story will be complete this week.

When he’d gotten back from the diner, he’d stopped in to see Uncle Phil, who’d given him pretty much the same advice that Bucky and Angie had.  Only Uncle Phil had actually talked to Sam, knew him where the others didn’t.  He’d been understanding and kind, supportive as always.  And he’d been firm that Steve needed to talk to Sam while they were still under the same roof, or he’d always regret it.

He was right.  Sam had been waiting up for him, had even written him a letter.  They sat side by side on the bed while Steve read it, the pair of them crying, just like they had when Sam’s dog Maggie May had been hit by a car when they were 8.

The letter was heartfelt, tear-stained, and badly in need of spellcheck.  But it was also honest, painfully so, and Steve felt his anger bleed away, leaving sadness and regret in its wake.

So they talked.  Haltingly, shyly, quietly.  Openly, candidly, for the first time.

There were tears.  There was quiet laughter.  There were gentle touches.  There were desperate kisses as they each had struggled with letting go, and holding fast.

Steve talked about how he’d felt when Uncle Phil had pulled him out of New York, how lost and empty he’d felt, how Sam had been the lifeline that connected him to his old life.  How even as he made new friends in the place he had no choice about being, he craved his old life, his old friends, his old self.  How much he valued Sam’s friendship, how much he wanted him in his life.

Sam talked about how lonely he felt, stuck back in their old high school, while people paired off around him, his weekly Skype calls with Steve his only romantic interaction.  Sam had wanted to tell Steve about how he felt, not really about Riley, but just how difficult Sam found life with Steve … elsewhere.  But he hadn’t thought Steve was ready for that yet.

Finding Riley hadn’t been anything Sam had sought.  But when he’d felt the first sparks of friendship, he’d held on tight like a man drowning, because that’s what he was.  And when something else seemed to bloom between them, he realized that he would have to make a decision.

“Is there someone you’re interested in?” Sam asked, his voice a whisper in the dark.

“There is someone.  But he’s straight.  And he has an awesome girlfriend.  Who’s also a friend of mine.  So, yeah.  I’m rocking the single life, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.  I didn’t know how to tell you, not without hurting you.  Not about Riley, but about not being happy with the situation.  Feeling left out by it, isolated, I guess. Hearing you talk about your new friends, seeing how excited you got … it felt like you didn’t need me anymore, y’know?”

Steve turned his face and rested his forehead against Sam’s, quietly sharing air before he answered a voice that was barely there, “I lost so much, Sammy.  How could you think I could afford to lose you, too?”

The whimper that tore out of Sam was heartbreaking, but the kisses that followed were searing.

Need had been building between them for months.  Even as they were mourning their romance, even as they were laying it to rest, need reached the point where it would not be denied.

As much an affirmation of all they’d been to one another as it was a goodbye, kisses led to touches, touches led to caresses, and caresses led to naked skin upon naked skin.  Clothes pooled on the floor next to the guest bed, as Sam and Steve breathed in tandem as they brought each other closer to the edge.  When their orgasms hit, they were silent, peaceful moments, the exhalation of held breaths, sighs, and declarations of love whispered against each other’s skin.  A benediction on the end of one kind of love, and the promise of another.

“I … I didn’t mean to –“

“It’s okay, Sammy.  I think we always would’a wondered otherwise.  I’m glad you were my first.  You were my first everything.”  Steve stretched his neck to place a kiss on Sam’s forehead as Sam murmured that he was happy Steve was his first, too.  “Get some sleep – you have an early train in the morning.”

“You’re not gonna stay?” Sam asked in a small voice, his hands gently stroking up and down Steve’s arms.

“Don’t think I should.  Do you?”

“I don’t really wanna break up, Steve.  I love you.  I just don’t see how we can make this work –“

“I know.  I love you, too.  But … we decided.  We make better friends than boyfriends,” Steve answered as he slid down the bed and onto his feet.  He snagged the pile of clothes and sorted his from Sam’s.  “But I kinda think friends with benefits might be a thing.  If you want.”

“I …”

“I’m not askin’ you to cheat on Riley.  I’m just sayin’ if you’re single and I’m single at some point in the future …” Steve shrugged.  “Leavin’ it on the table, ‘kay?”

“Okay.  I do love you, Steve.  I do.  But …”

“Time for both of us to move on.  Get some sleep.  I’m not going to get up to say goodbye in the morning,” he told Sam, and leaned down to brush his lips against Sam’s.  “Have a good trip.  Text me when you get home.”

“I could stay another day –“

“I think it’s better you go home.  If you stay, my friends are gonna wanna meet you, and that’s just all kinds of awkward begging to happen.  And I can’t promise I’d be able to keep my hands off you, you sexy beast.”  Sam chuckled at that, looking up at Steve from his pillow, his expression soft and vulnerable.

By now, Steve was dressed again, save for his shoes.  He held them dangling off his hand and waggled his fingers in farewell to Sam, a sad smile curving his lips as he let his eyes drink in the sight of Sam Wilson, naked and sated, a sight he thought he had years ahead to enjoy.  But this was one more thing he’d thought was his to keep, one more piece of who he’d thought he was, slipping away.  With one more wistful smile toward Sam, Steve let himself out of the room, took a deep breath to center himself, and made the climb back to his own room.

&&&

The sound of the car door slamming shut finally penetrated Steve’s foggy brain, and he cracked an eye open.

Morning.

Uncle Phil was taking Sam to the train station.

An era of his life had ended in the wee hours of the morning, after a tumultuous day, some soul searching, and a lot of hugging and crying.  His first time touching another man.  His first shared orgasm.  First time having sex, he supposed.

He still felt a little boneless, a little sad.  A little lost, really.  He hadn’t felt this way in a while, not since before he’d started to make friends at Stark, started settling in.  But he was starting this day as someone different from whom he’d been yesterday.  He was no longer someone’s boyfriend.  Just like he was no longer someone’s son.  He was no longer part of a we.  He was just Steve.  Maybe that was okay for now.

And Just Steve was hungry.  As he heard the car pull out of the driveway, he hoped that Uncle Phil had left him some breakfast …

&&&

Later that day, Steve headed to Angie' s and the Friendsgiving celebration. Uncle Phil had handed him a serving dish full of pineapple filling and a jug of Calloway Farms eggnog for his contribution, but only after he’d hugged him and told him how proud he was of him.

It was a Hallmark moment, but it had been real, too.  Steve had smiled and hugged him back, wondering if he should tell Uncle Phil what he and Sam had done the night before.  He found he didn’t want to share it, wanted to hold it fast as something just between him and Sam, no one else’s to pick over and criticize, to imbue with toxic masculinity, or some well-meaning attempt at painting him with victimhood.  The legal age of consent in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania was 16 – he and Sam were both over 17.  In terms of sexual choices, they were both legally adults, even if they couldn’t vote yet.  Which, yeah, made no sense.  He could make babies, he just couldn’t vote for policy makers who would enact laws to protect them.  He knew he was veering off on a tangent that was sure to get him in trouble, so he put the mental brakes on and focused on smiling at Uncle Phil.

“I’m really glad you and Sam talked.  I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted, but at least you’re still friends.”

Steve nodded, then accepted Uncle Phil’s offerings, bundled up, and walked over to Angie’s apartment over the diner.

&&&

As cold as it was outside, inside Angie’s apartment, it was warm and welcoming.  The hostess herself greeted Steve at the door when he knocked, opening wide and grinning broadly at him.  She quickly liberated him of his contributions to the feast, while Steve himself started to unwind out of his cold weather gear. 

“English!” Angie bellowed over her shoulder.  “Nog for spiking!” she raised the jug of eggnog over her head, and tossed Steve a cheeky grin.  Peggy came over to claim the jug and serving dish, and paused to kiss Angie on the lips, then spun around to drop a kiss on Steve’s cheek.  “Stow your stuff in the bedroom there,” Angie directed, waving toward the pile massed up on what must be a bed under the mountain.  “And then grab yourself a drink and some munchies.  We’re setting up buffet style, so just keep grazing, huh?”

Steve nodded and wandered off to find a plate, a drink, and some food, letting the delicious scents guide his way.  He paused occasionally in his foraging to say hi to friends and acquaintances as he made his way around, tasting and noshing as he went.

The apartment was surprisingly large, room after room leading him in a circle around the central core of the stairway.  The hardwood floors were beautiful, and the dark wood trim framing the creamy walls made the place look old and lived in. There seemed to be food or drink on every flat surface, and he could see Peggs, Gabe, and Angie each rotate to place more and more dishes in his path.  It looked like the entire town had shown up with serving dishes and entrees.  He moved into a large room with old-fashioned pocket doors on two walls, and an old brass chandelier dripping faceted crystals from the ceiling.  He glanced up and smiled at the elaborate medallion on the ceiling, promising himself he had to quiz Angie about the place.  It was just amazing.

“Well, you know what you have to do,” he heard a familiar voice say, and turned around, frowning, to place it.

Natasha.  Looking put together and gorgeous as usual.  With Bucky.  He hadn’t seen them together for about a week, so it was kind of jarring to see them now, looking so intimate.  She had her hand caressing his ear and neck as she spoke, he had a hand on one of her hips, the other on her waist.  He was shaking his head, but he smiled fondly at her.  “I don’t know why you’re having trouble with this, _kotik_.  It’s what we both want, isn’t it?” she asked, smiling sweetly.  “It could be so good, you know.  You know it’s true,” she cajoled, hugged him fiercely, and kissed his forehead.  He hugged her back, bending down to circle her tiny body with his arms, leaning into the hug, closing his eyes as he pressed his face against her fiery hair.

Steve realized he was staring, listening in on a private conversation, a conversation clearly between two lovers.  He reminded himself that he had a crush, but that didn’t mean Bucky felt the same way.

_Obviously not._

He turned sharply on his heel and retraced his steps in the circle of the apartment, focusing on changes to the arrangement of food, noting that new dishes have pushed others out of the way.  He deliberately selected new treats to sample as he practically powerwalked in the opposite direction of the big room with the chandelier. 

He practically knocked Peggy over in his zeal to put space between him and Bucky.  Bucky and Natasha. 

“Darling!  Come, sit, spill!” she commanded him, slipping her arm through the crook of his arm to pull him over to a miraculously open spot on one of the comfy looking sofas.  Steve glanced around and found Angie across the room.  Angie smiled, nodded, and gave him a thumb’s up, a clear acknowledgement that she spilled to Peggy. 

Clearly, there were no secrets among this triad, and Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised.  Steve allowed himself to be pulled along, oddly grateful for the distraction, even as he knew he was about to be put to interrogation.

“So.  Sam.  He broke your heart.  Did you break his nose?”

“No, and you know I didn’t.  I took the advice I was given – yes, by Angie.  And others.  I took it, and we talked, Sam and me.”

“Hmm.  Imagine that. Talking.”

“What's that supposed to mean, Peggs?”

“Did you ask Barnes why he was back so soon?”

“What’s Bucky got to do with anything?”  Peggy leveled him with a critical glare, eyebrow arched and and lips pursed disapprovingly.  “Yeah, okay, he was at the diner, and yeah, he gave me advice about Sam, too.  He said his family is crazy, that’s why he was back already.”

“Hmm.  Well, that does make sense, considering.  And Natasha?”

He really didn’t want to talk about Bucky and Natasha.  He knew he didn’t have a chance with Bucky.  He knew it.  And he genuinely liked Natasha.  And besides, he just broke up with the love of his life.  He was sort of in mourning again.  He needed to let that take its course before jumping into something new.  Didn’t he?

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t dream.  Fantasize.  Be stupid crazy about Bucky.  Because that’s what he was.  Seeing Bucky back with Natasha made him realize it, and he wondered if Sam had sensed it, if that’s why he started to open himself up to other people, to Riley.  Peggy was still waiting for an answer, and Steve knew he couldn’t get away with dodging her for long.  There was a reason she was student council president, a champion debater, and on the fast track to a career in international affairs.  “Whatever was going on, it looks like they patched it up.  They look pretty cozy, don't you think?”

“Goddammit, Steve, can you just admit how you feel about the boy?”

“Peggy, I nearly lost my best friend over letting romance change who we are to each other. Maybe I'm not ready to jump in there again. Maybe I'm not willing to risk another friendship over my dick.”

“Maybe you should let another organ be in charge for a while, Steven.”

“Maybe you should let me make my own decisions about, you know, my own fucking life,” Steve retaliated.  “Everybody’s got an opinion.  Everybody feels entitled to a piece of me.  Well, guess what?  You’re not.  I know you mean well, but just … just don’t, okay?  I just broke up with Sam, the guy I thought I was gonna grow old with.  Gimme some time to process that, huh?  Geeze, Peggs!” he launched himself up from the sofa, leaving his plate and drink behind as he stormed off in the direction he’d been going when he ran into Peggy. 

He ignored her plea of, “Steve, wait, I’m sorry –“

He ignored the worried look Angie gave him as she made an aborted attempt to stop him in his tracks.

He ignored Gabe’s kindly gaze, and Monty’s inquiring eyebrow. 

He ignored everyone until he found himself in the kitchen, the nerve center of the shindig where glorious aromas tangled and twined and became a heaven all their own.  He saw a familiar face over by the desserts, and when he looked up and smiled at him, he felt a calm wash over him like balm.

“Kev.  Hi.”

 “Steve!  I was hoping I’d see you here.  Fuck, have you ever seen so many different kinds of food?  I mean, outside of one of those Amish smorgasbords?  Like, you have to go into training to eat at them.  Kinda wish I’d done that for this.  It’s amazing.  Where’s Sam?”

Steve choked out a laugh and shook his head.  He quickly brought Kev up to speed on the Sam situation, delivering the news as succinctly as he could.  He appreciated the fact that Kev responded with a simple, “Man, that sucks.  I’m sorry, Steve.”

And suddenly his anger bled away into nothing.  “Yeah, me too.  Long distance relationships are tough, and we never figured out any ground rules.  But we talked and we’re still friends.  I dunno, I love him, I do, but I thing I get it – we are more important to each other as friends than as lovers.”  Steve followed Kev’s lead and filled up another plate with food from the kitchen display, and helped himself to a cup of nog.  He tasted it gingerly – it carried a kick.  This must be the spiked nog Peggy was in charge of.  Tasted good, and the warmth spreading in his belly felt nice.

They found a stretch of counter that was miraculously clear, and set their plates and cups down so they could chow down without having to balance everything.

“Still friends.  Wow, that’s great.  When I broke up with my boyfriend – the one I dated before, you know,” he added, waving at himself, “we couldn’t figure out how to be friends.  And we’d been friends since second grade.  And since I came out as trans, he acts like he never knew me.  Like I’m some kind of, I dunno, void.  It sucks.  He’s the one person I thought would support me, but I was wrong.  But I guess so long as he doesn’t’ do anything weird or creepy, I can live with it.  I don’t think I could have said that until I met you and the rest of the gang.”

“Yeah.  Life is a helluva lot simpler when you’re sharing Legos and action figures.  Add hormones to the mix, and things get all fucked up.”

“Sounds like you’re swearin’ off romance,” Kev guessed, chewing thoughtfully.

“Nah.  Just taking a breather, I think.  Nobody deserves to be a rebound romance, y’know?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I get it.  And I think you’re right.  About being friends.  That it’s more important.  So how long are you plannin’ to stick around?”

“Hadn’t really thought about it.”

“That new Thor movie is playing at the Rialto.  I was thinking of catching the last matinee. Half price tickets,” he added in a sing-song.

“Wow.  There’s a hard choice.  Half price tickets for half naked Chris Hemsworth.  Last matinee, huh?  Popcorn’s discounted, too.  I’m in.”

&&&

Taking his own advice to heart, Steve retraced his steps and found Peggy, Angie, and Gabe all conversing in low voices, their expressions taut and worried.

“Can I have this dance?” Steve asked, tapping Peggy on the shoulder.

“Steve, darling!  I’m so sorry!  You’re absolutely right, I’m a an interfering harridan, and it’s not of my damned business who you like –“

“It’s okay, Peggs.  I know you have my best interests at heart.  Just … have a little faith, huh?  Let me figure things out for myself.”

“You mean, let you live your own life, your way?  Hah, that’s a novel concept to these two,” Gabe put in with a huff.

“Just because I tell you how I expect you to comport yourself doesn’t mean you’re obligated, darling,” Peggy told him haughtily.

“Yeah, pull the other one,” Angie agreed.  “So, you okay, baby boy?” Angie asked Steve directly.

“As well as can be expected.  I’m gonna go drown my sorrows with grade A Australian beefcake with Kev.  We’re gonna take in the late matinee on Thor at the Rialto.”

“Oh, but that means you’re leaving already?  Steve, darling, I put my foot in it and I’ve missed out on spending time with you –“

“We’ll catch up later.  I’m guessing there are going to be leftovers?”

“Oooh, yeah, I need to make you up a plate –“ Angie started.

“How about I come over for snacks tomorrow?”

Peggy just sort of melted at that, and flung her arms around Steve’s neck while Angie danced in place, squealing.  “You are the best.  Yes, please.  So, you and Kev …?” she asked suggestively.

“Are going to the movies.  As friends. And we’re gonna watch the movie,” Steve said slowly and distinctly.  “So … thanks for having me, the food was amazing, your place is amazing, and you all are amazing.”

“All right, darling, go enjoy the show.  God knows, Hemsworth is a feast for the senses.”

“Hey!” Gabe protested.

“As are you, my love.  As are you!”

“You okay finding your stuff in the bedroom?  We don’t need to put a rope around you to haul you out?”

“If I don’t come out in ten minutes, send a search party,” Steve agreed, chuckling.  Waving at the trio over his shoulder, he started toward the bedroom where a mountain of clothing threatened to swallow the room.  And possibly the apartment.  With everyone in it.

He was excavating down through the layers, sure his coat, with muffler, hat, and gloves stuffed into the inner pockets, was within a few more inches of wool, down, and down alternatives when he heard, “There you are!  I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Steve turned his head to see Bucky standing in the doorway looking flustered and frustrated.  “Oh.  Sorry.  I didn’t know,” Steve said mildly, inwardly commanding his heart to stop that hammering on his chest wall, and his adrenalin to calm the fuck down, thank you very much.  Ah, there was his coat!  He grabbed on with both hands and tugged.  With a little effort, it came free, and the pile only wobbled a little, no avalanche, or worse, complete collapse.

“Yeah, I thought we were gonna hang out.  Wait, are you leaving?  Already?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, um, Kev and I are going to the movies.”

“What, like a date?” Bucky asked, his voice sounding strangled.

“No, God no, I just broke up with my boyfriend.  I’m not in the right headspace to date.  No, we’re just gonna go ogle Chris Hemsworth.  And Tom Hiddleston.  And Tessa Thompson is pretty badass, too.  And oh my God, Cate Blanchett in a catsuit?  Yikes,” Steve replied, chuckling.  It sounded sincere, right?  He didn’t sound like he was dying because Bucky was standing right there, looking fucking gorgeous, his lips in an honest-to-God pout, like he was really bummed that Steve wasn’t going to stay.

“Yeah, right, Sam!  So, how’d it go?” Bucky asked nervously, scrubbing his hand over his mouth and chin.

“Yeah, good.  Yeah.  We talked.  We agreed to try to stay friends.  Oh, fuck, I forgot to check my phone – he should’a got home hours ago.”  Steve fished out his phone and checked his texts quickly.  “Yep.  Two hours ago.  He’s back home and safe.  And yeah, we talked.”

“You said.  So, um, what time is the movie?”

“Oh, fuck, yeah, I gotta go.  So, you just wanted to hang?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I thought we could catch up with each other, y’know, spend some time.  Um.  Together, yeah,” Bucky said, oddly nervous as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.  His skinny jeans.  Steve really was trying not to think about how much tighter that made those jeans. 

He closed his eyes for a second and steeled himself, then asked, “Okay.  So … raincheck?”

“Yeah, yeah, that would be great.  Raincheck, yep.”

“Okay, then.  I’ll text you later,” Steve said, pulling his coat on and arranging all the other pieces.  He pulled up the coat’s zipper and started to cross the room.  When he got to Bucky, he raised up on tiptoe and whispered, “Congrats on working it out with Nat.  I’m happy for you both.”

&&&

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of those chapters where the characters looked at me and said, "Yeah, we're doing it our way." Usually, it's Bucky doing the talking, but this time, Steve took the reins. The scene between Sam and Steve surprised me, but I'm pleased with how it worked out. I think what happened between them gave them both a sense of closure, and they're better able to move on now.
> 
> As for Steve and Bucky, I don't mean to torture, I really don't. There's some stuff coming up in the next chapter that will be difficult, but the payoff is coming, I promise you.
> 
> Thank you for all your comments, kudos, and bookmarks! Keep 'em coming!


	9. Just Talk Already!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the fallout from Friendsgiving is confusing to everyone but Natasha, December dawns cold and frustrating, and tensions are about to come to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up, and sorry for the point at which it ends. This chapter has been unexpectedly difficult to write, not because I didn't know what was going to happen, but because I really struggled on how to start various sections. And then the boys took my notes outlining what would happen in this chapter, and they lit them on fire and tossed them out the window. So, I'm pretty much as surprised as you are at how this chapter ended.

As they raced toward the end of the year, everyone knuckled down harder to finish papers, conclude experiments, and cram for mid-terms that would be proctored just before the holiday break.  Tensions were ratcheting up, even as the temperature was going down.  Everyone had pretty much shifted over to their winter gear, and some had even started showing off holiday finery (if battery-powered red noses on cartoon reindeer could be called finery).  No one wanted to linger in the quad, and itineraries were planned in exquisite detail in order to minimize exposure to the cold.  The club still met twice a week, but anyone from town drove out to the school, or hitched a ride with someone else.  Angie found herself practically running a bus service, and when she suggested that one of the weekly meetings be shifted to the L&L, nobody begrudged her the respite.  Besides … hot chocolate, pie, and Dutch apple cake, burgers to die for.  No one was complaining.

So when the gang gathered, it was always in a warm location – in the library, away from the chill of the outer windows, near the cafeteria, by the fireplace that miraculously lit up in the last days of November, and magically remained roaring.  Monty had shared that it was fueled by gas, and maintained by a thermostat, and the burning logs were just a lovely illusion.  It didn’t matter – the thing poured out a steady heat and a pretty glow, and the tables and chairs clustered around it were jealously guarded and reluctantly ceded.

Steve had talked to Uncle Phil about the situation with the swim coach, Mr. Sitwell.  Uncle Phil, in an effort to appear impartial (and really, just following his own rules), had delegated investigating the issue to Dr. Banner, who took it on with the same dedication he applied to teaching, counseling, and sciencing.  He was working his way through the members of Friends Across the Spectrum, and was also interviewing members of the swim team.  He planned to provide his findings to Uncle Phil before Christmas, at which point Uncle Phil would decide his next steps.  Peggy, as president of student council, would be involved in any further discussion should Uncle Phil decide that further action was required.

So there was nothing Steve could do about that until the process worked itself out, annoyed though he might be about the situation.  He was glad there was a process for grievance review, and he understood that Uncle Phil could not appear to put him over other students or teachers.  It just chafed, the waiting.

It seemed like he was doing nothing but waiting these days.  After that wonderful thawing of his friendship with Bucky over Thanksgiving, suddenly the Wall seemed to have sprung up overnight, separating them in a surly silence. Steve would make overtures to hang out, to grab a bite, to work on a project, to be met with a sullen and inevitable, “’M busy, Steve.”

Yet, when they were all clustered in a group around the fire, or sprawled in the carrels in the library, Steve could swear he could feel Bucky’s eyes on him, not a creepy, stalkery sensation, but a warmth, a beacon.  But when he’d turn to look back, Bucky’s attention was riveted on something in front of him, or on Natasha, but a strange tension in his jaw, a movement of his hair, seemed to say that a moment ago, he’d been doing something else.  Like looking at Steve.

Steve was confused, that was sure.  He didn’t understand what had come between them, and it frustrated and saddened him.  Peggy, Angie, and Gabe were great, and they were very supportive once they stopped trying to manipulate his life, but they weren’t the guy he’d started to think of as his best friend at Stark.  And with everything that had happened with Sam, Steve would’ve thought that Bucky might end up being his best friend, period.  Except they didn’t seem to be friends at all anymore.

And whatever was going on with Natasha didn’t seem to be settled, either.  They sat together a lot, but they argued a lot, too.  And not just in English.  Very often their arguments were in Russian, with Natasha speaking fast and passionately, Bucky responding pleadingly. 

“Nope,” Gabe finally said.

“But darling –“

“I am not translating someone’s personal argument.”

“But you know what’s going on –“

“But it’s still personal, baby. I don’t have a context, I just have words.  I am not interpreting what they’re saying to each other.”

“At least tell us if it’s good or bad.”

“It ain’t good.”

“Well, then.  What if we guess?  Will you confirm or deny?”

“How about I walk away, Peggs, hmmm?  I don’t want to be privy to someone else’s problems.  Y’know what?  I’m gonna go study in my room.  You’re welcome to join me, but I’m done with this.”  And Gabe shrugged on his coat, gathered up his books, and strode toward the door, not pausing to make sure Peggy was following.  Of course she was, it just took her a moment longer to catch up.

So it wasn’t really surprising, even as it was actually kind of shocking, when, a couple of days before the first intramural swim meet of the season, Natasha slammed her books down on the table and stood up, glaring furiously at Bucky.

“I’m sorry, James, I really am.  But I can’t do this anymore.  It’s not fair to me, it’s not fair to you, it’s not fair to anybody.  I love you dearly, but this has to stop.”

“Nat –“

“Don’t ‘Nat’ me, James.  You know what you have to do.  What you _want_ to do.  Stop being a pussy about it, and stop making everyone around you suffer.  Just fucking _do_ it!” She swept her books back up in her arms, cocked her head to look at him fondly, and shook her head.  “Just do it, James,” she pleaded, her voice laden with unshed tears.  “For me.  For you.”  And then she turned and walked out of the lounge in silence.

And silence held for a beat, two, three, giving Bucky time to realize that their – whatever it was – had been heard by all his friends.  He turned slowly toward them, all of them staring and being honest enough not to try to hide it.  The expression on his face was wretched, wrecked.  Tears streamed down his face, and his hands shook.  His mouth opened to say something, but emotions overwhelmed him, and he choked on his tears, grabbed his books and ran out of the lounge.

No one moved.  No one knew what to do.  Neither Natasha nor Bucky had confided in anyone in the group, and the only person who’d understood their exchanges in Russian was Gabe.  All eyes abruptly snapped to him, and he held up his hands to fend off the sudden wave of silent demand that buffeted him.

“It’s. None. Of. My. Business.”

“But, darling, clearly two of our friends are in pain –“

“Peggy, it’s between them.  You don’t need to speak five languages fluently to know they’ve been arguing.  We’ve all been able to hear that in their voices.  They need to work it out between them – or not, it’s their choice.”

“That’s right.  But that doesn’t mean that we can’t be supportive,” Steve suggested worriedly, pulling out his phone and turning it over and over in his hand.

“Get in the middle of a lover’s spat, and you could find yourself dumped by both parties,” Monty observed.  “Better to stay out of it unless you’re asked to intervene.”

“So what, we’re fair weather friends only?  If it’s gonna be tough, we’re hands off?  Screw that,” Steve argued, and fought his way into his coat and gathered up his own books.

“Steve, darling, where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go be a friend.”

&&&

 **STEVE:**   Hey im heding 2 l&l if u want sum compny & hot choco  
**BUCKY:**  
**STEVE:**   I shd b thre in 10 booth in back  
**BUCKY:**  
**STEVE:**   Hey im here wher u at  
**BUCKY:**  
**STEVE:**   Angie sez hi get ur candyass here  
**BUCKY:**  
**STEVE:** Theres cake  
**BUCKY:**  
**STEVE:** Or pie  
**BUCKY:**  
**STEVE:** I just wanna help  
**BUCKY:**  
**STEVE:** I miss u  
**BUCKY:**  
**STEVE:**   ill b here 10 mor mintes unless u show  
**BUCKY:**  
**STEVE:** ok im goin home  
**BUCKY:** …

Steve stared at the little dots floating on his phone screen, excitement building in his chest as he waited for Bucky’s response.  He sat there in the booth, the table already cleared and his bill already paid, waiting, watching the phone like it was about to spring forth with the secrets of the universe.

Five minutes later, nothing had come through, and the dots had long since disappeared.

 **STEVE:**   Bucky?  
**BUCKY:**

“Y’okay, sweetie?” Angie asked, sitting on the edge of the table, looking at him worriedly.  “English said there was a thing.”

“Yeah, I guess. It wasn’t my thing, but …”

“It’s tough to watch a friend hurting.  But sometimes y’gotta give ‘em space so they can figure out on their own how to not be hurting anymore.  Y’know?”

“How’d you get so wise?”

She thought about it seriously for a long moment, and then shrugged.  “Dunno.  Natural talent.  You okay walkin’ home in the cold?”

“Only a few blocks.  I Ubered over from the school, but I got this, Ange.”

“Okay.  When you catch that big lunkhead, give ‘im a kiss from me, huh?  Pay it forward, baby boy.”

“Sure thing, Ange.  Thanks.”

&&&

Neither Bucky nor Natasha joined the gang the next day.  Steve shared several classes with Bucky, but his first period instructor announced that, “Barnes has called out sick for the day.  We all know he’s preparing for the first big meet, so we’ll cut him some slack this time, huh?  Rogers, you’ll share your notes with him when he gets back, right?”

All their instructors assumed that Steve would bring Bucky up to speed when he got back to class, and Steve didn’t disagree.  It would give him a conversational opening, if nothing else.

On impulse, Steve swung by the natatorium to see if Bucky was there, prepping for tomorrow’s race like the teacher suggested.  The pool was alive with activity, cheerful voices bouncing off the tiles and calling back to themselves.  A couple of lanes were set aside for the swim team, but the rest of the pool was a class.  Steve didn’t see Bucky anywhere, but then he saw Dr. Banner sitting quietly in the stands.  He climbed up to sit next to him, and stared out over the pool for a moment.

“Hey, Steve.  How’re you doing?”

“I’m worried about Bucky.  Have you seen him?”

“Barnes?  No, he called out sick today.  I just assumed he needed a day to chill before the meet tomorrow.  There’s a lot of pressure on him – he’s the anchor for the team.  Why?”

“I think him and Nat broke up.  And he seemed really upset about it.  I’ve tried texting him, but he’s not answering.”

“Well, I spoke with his RA this morning, and he checked in on him.  He was in his room.  He’s in a single, no roommate.  Special request.”

“Huh?  What’s that mean, special request?”

“Most freshmen and sophomores, and even juniors, are in doubles and quads.  Bucky was in a double last year, but then at the end of the school year last year, he put in a request for a single.  It happens,” Dr. Banner shrugged.

“So that’s not unusual.”

“Not really.  It’s more expensive to the parents, but let’s face it, most of the students here come from families who have deep financial reserves.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t realize that you’re going to school with the children of some of the most famous or influential people in the world?  That’s good.  Part of the school’s goal is to erase any arrogance that comes with social position.  Check your egos at the door kind of thing.”

“So what’s up with Rumlow, then?”

“It’s a good question, actually.  And why I’m here.  He used to be a really good kid, but the last year …” Dr. Banner shook his head.  “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“I’m easy to talk to.”

“There’s nothing easy about you, Steve.  And that’s not a bad thing, so get rid of that look,” Dr. Banner chuckled.

Steve dropped his grimace and grinned at his counselor.  “So, is everybody rich here?”

“Rich?  No.  Some students were born into high profile families, or political dynasties, if you will.”

“Well, then, I guess I do fit in.”  At Dr. Banner’s raised eyebrow, Steve answered, “Can’t get much higher profile than being the headmaster’s nephew, huh?”

“You have me there,” Dr. Banner agreed with a smirk.

“Well, if Buck’s not here, and he’s back in his room, maybe I’ll try there –“

“Get his consent first.  Don’t show up unannounced.”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

&&&

 **STEVE:** Heard ur not feeling well. I can stop by with chkn soup.  
**BUCKY:**  
**STEVE:**   Srsly dude if u dont want 2 c me say so  
**BUCKY:**  
**STEVE:**   OK im gonna take that as l8r  
**BUCKY:**  
**STEVE:** throw me a bone! just tell me ur getting these texts!  
**BUCKY:**   …

The ellipsis hovered on the verge of becoming something, and then disappeared again.

Well, fuck.  Steve was going to keep on trying.  Tomorrow was in fact another day.  There was no way Bucky was missing his first competition of the season.

&&&

The day of the opening meet dawned cold and clear, but the forecast called for flurries in the afternoon, and the possibility of snow overnight.  As Steve lay in bed watching the denuded trees swaying stark against the gray-blue sky, he found himself looking forward to the first snowfall of the year.  He was no Lorelei, and he wasn’t in love with snow like the middle Gilmore, but he was looking forward to seeing what it was like out here, in the ‘burbs.  In the city, it could lay a momentary hush over the sound that was always there in the background of New York, but it never lasted long.  Cars and cabs, Ubers and Lyfts, delivery vans and busses – all worked together to shatter the fragile peace that came with the snow, quickly changing the lovely crystalline white to a sodden, sooty gray.

Then an unwelcome thought entered his snow-filled fantasy. 

Who removed the snow?

He had a feeling he was going to find out.  And soon.

The temperature was dipping into the twenties today, and Steve was happy that Uncle Phil was ready to give him a ride to school.  So as they drove the short distance to the school, Steve asked about the white stuff and where it went – and how.

“Well, I do have a guy who does the snow for me, but there’s a snow blower in the garage, and a couple of shovels if you’re interested in earning some extra cash,” Uncle Phil told him with a chuckle.

“I think I want to enjoy my first snow at Stark.  But maybe another time.”

“I don’t blame you, actually.  Potts Junction is a pretty little town, and it looks really lovely in the show.  Some people put up their Christmas decorations over Thanksgiving, but you’ll see a lot more after the first snow.  On Christmas Eve, everyone puts out luminarias – all the streets are lined with them.  It turns Potts Junction into a magical place, I’ll tell you.”

“You like it here.”

“I’ve been here over thirty years, Steve.  Tony’s in his early fifties, and the school has been operating since he was a teenager.  I remember what it was like growing up in New York, and how weird it was to move out here.  There was a lot more active farmland then, no mall, a lot fewer shopping centers.  A lot fewer people.”

“So … are you gonna retire soon?”

“I have no plans to retire anytime soon, Steve.  I’m happy with my life here.  As long as Tony and Pepper are willing to put up with me, and I feel like I’m doing good work, I’m here for the duration.  Why, do you think I should?”

“Well, I mean, isn’t retirement when you stop working and start having fun?”

“Who says I’m not having fun working?”

“You’re weird, Uncle Phil.”

“Yes.  I think you get that quality from my side of the family, Steve.  Be proud of your heritage.”

The pair of them shared a gentle laugh over that, as Uncle Phil pulled into his designated space in the school parking lot.  “I should talk to Tony about building an indoor garage.  Whaddya think?”

“Maybe next summer.  Think people’d be pretty pissed to have nowhere to park this winter.”

“Yeah, of course.  See, you could have a future in school administration,” Uncle Phil suggested as they grabbed their stuff and hurried into the main building, breath frosting on the air.  “Have you started thinking about what you want to take in college?”

“Art of some kind.  I’m thinking maybe animation, y’know?” Steve answered as they entered into the lobby.  He glanced forward and saw Bucky hurrying toward their first period class.  “Hey, I’ll catch you later?”

“You getting a ride home with someone after the swim meet, or do you need me to come get you?”

“You’re not going?”

“Can’t stand the smell of chlorine.  Text me and let me know, Steve.  Have a great day!” Uncle Phil called to Steve as he trotted off in pursuit of Bucky.

&&&

When Steve caught up with Bucky, he was already at his seat in class, head down over his work, ear buds jammed in his ears.  Steve dropped into his seat, pulled out his notes from the day before, and nudged them across the table to Bucky.  His friend didn’t look up, but Steve saw Bucky’s hand slide out to cover the notebook and pull it toward him with a faint nod.

They got through that first period without exchanging a word, or even a glance.  There were moments when Steve could swear he could feel Bucky’s gaze on him, but when he tried to peek out from under his lashes, Bucky was focused on his own notebook, having quickly copied over Steve’s notes so he could wordlessly push the notebook back to Steve.

Steve tried to talk to Bucky during the change of classes, but Bucky just strode away quickly, his longer legs rapidly eating up real estate so he arrived in the classroom well ahead of Steve.  By mid-day, Steve had had enough, and kept his notes to himself, crossed his arms over his thin chest, and just glared at Bucky with his lower lip jutting out in a world-class pout.

Finally, the last bell of the day rang, and Bucky shot out of his seat and was gone before Steve could shove his books in his satchel.

“Fucking asshole,” Steve swore under his breath, stomping his way toward the natatorium to meet up with his friends.

When he got there, Kev was waiting in the first row on the Stark side of the pool, along with Peggy, Gabe, and the rest of _The Medium_ staff, as well as several members of Friends Across the Spectrum.  It was a good showing in support of Bucky, even if he was being a giant dick.  Steve climbed up to the top row of the benches, slammed his bag down on the seat next to him, crossed his arms and slumped down scowling, with his feet on the seat in front of him.

Everyone twisted in their seats to stare at Steve, but only Peggy had the nerve to stand up and challenge him with a pointed, “What crawled up your ass, Steve?”

“Bucky.”

“Well, it’s about time,” Monty muttered, causing Steve to frown even fiercer. 

“And what the fuck does that mean?” Steve snarled.

Peggy tossed a balled up tissue at Monty’s head.  “Shut up, Monty, darling.  Steve?  What’s this about James?”

“He’s not speaking to me, won’t even look at me.  I’ve texted him like a thousand times, no answer.  I let him copy my notes this morning, not even a thank you.  He’s been a total douche since Thanksgiving.”

“What’d you expect, Steve?” asked a new voice, and everyone turned to see Natasha stroll in hand-in-hand with a young blond guy.  Like Natasha, he was compact, with muscle definition in his arms and upper chest that was truly drool-worthy.

“Hey, I’m Clint.  Good to finally meet everybody,” he greeted with a grin and a wave.

“And who is Clint?” Peggy demanded, turned toward the newcomers.

“Clint is my boyfriend,” Natasha informed them primly as she took her seat in the front row.

“Three years and counting,” Clint agreed, holding up three fingers.

“Three years?” several of the gang asked in unison.

“Wait, how is that possible?” Steve demanded, his surly expression giving way to curiosity.

“We met at the 2014 Youth Olympic Games,” Clint shrugged.  “Nanjing.  It was cool.”

“You’re an Olympian, too?” Patsy asked curiously, reaching for her notepad.  “Why haven’t we heard about you before?”

“I dunno.  Maybe you don’t follow archery?  Although why you wouldn’t is beyond me,” Clint answered off-handedly.  Natasha remained silent, sipping at her drink, an L&L special by the logo the tall insulated cup.

“Archery, archery,” Patsy repeated, letting her finger run rapidly over the scroll on her phone.  “Clint Barton?  You were the gold medalist in the individual men’s Rio!”

“Yep, that’s me.  I like arrows,” he nodded. 

“So, you’ve been dating for three years, and none of us have ever met you before,” Peggy summed up.  She turned to Natasha, “Care to explain, Natasha?”

“Not particularly.  When do they start swimming?”

&&&

A number of the swimmers, male and female, had taken to the pool, running laps and loosening up.  The blocks were in place, and the lane markers were just being positioned.  The school AV team had set up their cameras, and the team was rechecking their connections and checking in with the broadcast booth.  The teen commentators were set up behind the judges’ table.  A stream of students wearing the Hammer Tech colors entered the natatorium, taking up a block of seats across from where Steve and his friends were sitting, still stunned by Natasha and her Clint’s revelation.

If Natasha and Clint had been dating for three years, where did that leave Bucky?  Was this another poly relationship?  Steve kept stealing glances at Natasha and Clint, and their body language was distinctly different from the way Natasha and Bucky interacted.  There was something more possessive, more intimate in the way they moved around each other, the small touches and gentle caresses, moments where contact continued past the point of friendly, and entered into a more intense realm.

What the actual fuck?

The JV men’s team was getting ready to take their positions when voices in the men’s locker room started to drift out into the pool area, quickly growing in intensity and volume.

Steve realized that one of the voices was Bucky’s, the other … Rumlow?  The words were indistinct, but the intent was clear – Rumlow was practically screaming at Bucky, and Bucky was verbally defending himself. 

And then suddenly, the shouting stopped, but there were other sounds, more ominous sounds.  Steve was up and moving before he even realized it. 

Jack Rollins, one of the other swimmers and a member of Rumlow’s entourage, came skidding out of the locker room, windmilling his arms so he didn’t careen right into the pool.  “Coach, help!  He’s gonna kill him!”

Steve was off at a dead run, ignoring the wet tiles, the calls of his friends to come back, to let the adults handle it.

Steve couldn’t hear them.  All he could hear was the roaring of his blood through his ears.  All he could think of was Bucky.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, there will be talking. By Bucky and Steve. I promise.
> 
> Also, you may have noticed that I've been writing this story entirely from Steve's myopic viewpoint. It's an unusual technique for me to write an entire story from one character's perspective. Usually I cover different perspectives, letting the characters who need to speak to do so in their own scenes. Not here. I've decided there will be a companion piece, going into complementary perspectives, where we'll find out more of what's been happening while Steve has been oblivious.
> 
> And I definitely plan to write a sequel, but that's at some point in the future - both when I write it, and when it occurs. It's still percolating, but the sequel has been part of the plan since I started to write notes for this story. This story will be complete in and of itself, though.


	10. Objects May Be Closer Than They Appear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which truth is finally spoken, blinders are removed, and feelings are at last allowed to blossom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, wow. These last two chapters have been really challenging for me. I'm glad, though, that I took an extra day to finish this latest chapter, because I really appreciated the comments that were shared. I am incredibly lucky that my readers express their opinions, positive, negative, questioning, offering suggestions. You always push me to be a better writer.
> 
> I hope you like the last chapter of the story. What will follow, sometime in the next couple of days, is an epilogue. And at some point in the next few weeks, I would like to write a few timestamps, to capture other points of view on some of the moments in the story. I'll be setting up a series, as there will also be a sequel at some point. When you read the epilogue, you'll see why ... :)

Antiseptic.  Sharp, clear, jarring.

He hated that smell.

That smell.

Hospitals.

Hospital.

_Ma._

The steady beep of the ECG was … strong and steady.  Not weak and erratic.  Not … dying.

A flare of hope exploded in his chest as he struggled to come fully aware.

He shifted slightly, cataloguing the sensations.

He was sitting, in a chair that was reasonably comfortable, a warm weight draped across his shoulders and down his back.  He was … slumped across a soft surface, his arm flung out.  Holding someone’s hand.  Warm, vital, smooth.  Not cool. Not frail.  Not papery.  He could feel a pulse thrum under his finger.  Not thread, barely there.  Full of life, not dwindling toward death.

Hope died in an explosion of ashes.  _Not Ma._   No, not Ma.  Ma was gone.  Grief, raw and fresh and unfiltered, crashed over him with the realization, dragging a whimper from deep within.  He breathed in on a sob, only to suddenly stop when he felt the hand in his move, sliding out from under his grasp to reach into his hair, and stroke softly.

As if drawn up by the hand gently carding his hair, Steve lifted his face then, rapidly taking in details to confirm that yes, he was in a hospital room, yes, he was sitting in a chair, slumped across the side of a hospital bed, and no, no it was not Ma in the bed, not her hand sweetly petting his head. 

It was _Bucky_.

Bucky.  Bruised, bandaged, broken?  His skin was pale against the white sheets and thin woven cotton blankets.  Technicolor bruises and lacerations distorted his face with swelling and bandages.  Steve recognized the stabilizing bandages wound round Bucky’s torso – he’d found himself trussed up like that more than once in his fighting career.  An IV dripped into his left hand, and above the hand … a cast, from wrist to shoulder.

And that’s when it all flooded back at Steve.

Rumlow, roaring with fury, punching and kicking at Bucky, clad only in his Speedo, no protection at all as he curled in on himself on the floor of the locker room.  Their teammates standing by, impotent with fear? Complicity? Fucking cowardice, as Bucky groaned and bled and suffered right in front of them.

Steve, fueled by a white hot rage, launching himself onto Rumlow’s back, clawing and punching and biting, anything to get him to stop hurting Bucky.

Dr. Banner and Coach Sitwell running into the locker room, Dr. Banner bouncing off a locker with a clatter and a grunt, Coach Sitwell yelling at Steve to get off Rumlow, Rollins screaming that Rumlow was trying to kill Bucky, Dr. Banner ordering Rollins to get the nurse, even as he was dialing 911, Sitwell telling him not to make an official complaint, he’d handle it –

“Like you’ve handled this so far?”  He inserted himself between Rumlow and Bucky, laid a firm hand against Rumlow’s chest, and said, “Get yourself under control, Rumlow.  This isn’t going to be swept under the rug this time.  Steve – get off him.”

And then Steve didn’t remember anything else, because Rumlow had deliberately flung himself backward against the lockers, knocking Steve off his back, and knocking Steve out.

And _ow_.

He realized that where Bucky petted his head hurt.  Like really hurt.  He straightened up, immediately regretted it as the room seemed to undulate, and his stomach threatened a repeat on those tamales he’d had for lunch.  Earlier today?  Yesterday?  The day before?

“Careful,” Bucky voice slurred, sounding as if his mouth was full of cotton.  Which, when Steve peered a little closer, appeared to be the truth.  “You took a hit to the head.  Good thing you’re hard-headed, punk.”

“Just as hard as you, jerk,” Steve grumbled, but secretly he was so thrilled that Bucky was talking to him, he forgot he was still mad about how douche-y Bucky had been the last couple of weeks. 

Bucky’s fingers stopped threading their way through Steve’s hair, and his hand slid down to cup his nape, a gentle pressure, reassuring, soft.  Then he squeezed Steve’s shoulder, letting his hand linger there.  Steve reached across with his right and tangled his fingers with Bucky’s, resting them there together, on Steve’s shoulder. 

“My hero,” Bucky said then, shifting uncomfortably.  “Nobody else did shit.  But you … I hear Brock’s not gonna win any beauty contests anytime soon.”

“He was gonna kill you if somebody didn’t stop him.  How the fuck could all your team mates just stand around watching while he did that?”

“Scared.  Of him.  Think you and Nat are the only badasses not afraid of him.”

“Nat.  Nat must be here.  You’ll want her –“

“Nah, I’m good,” Bucky answered sleepily, smiling softly as his hand slipped off Steve’s shoulder and drifted down to rest over Steve’s.  His thumb swept gently back and forth over Steve’s as he seemed to sink deeper in to the bed. 

“That’s right, you guys broke up, didn’t you?” Steve said in a small voice.

“Steve.  We were never _really_ dating,” Bucky answered softly, his eyes closing as sleep reclaimed him.

Steve was left to sit there, fingers entwined with Bucky’s, his heart thudding in his chest, confusion racing through his blood.

What the actual fuck?

&&&

The next time Steve woke up, Bucky was awake and watching him.

“You’re still here,” he said, his voice full of wonder.  The cotton was gone from his mouth, and some of the swelling had gone down.  Overall, he looked like death warmed over, and more like his own self.

“Yeah, I got a permanent crease in my face from your blanket,” he agreed, rubbing at his face.  “You look better.”

“You look like shit.”

“Hey, thanks, jerk.  So … you gonna talk to me now?  Maybe tell me the truth?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, you deserve that,” Bucky sighed, drawing his hand away from Steve’s.

Bucky was silent long enough that Steve thought he might have gone back to sleep.  But then he started talking.

“Rumlow and I were roommates last year.  We’ve been friends a long time, and we both requested to be paired up.  It was fine, it was good even, for a long time.  Then last spring he started to get weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Like, possessive weird.  Like I’d wake up during the night and find him sitting next to my bed staring at me.  Like he started to go into my e-mails and my phone and cancel social plans I’d made so I’d do stuff with him.  Touching me more often than he needed to, stupid shit, really.  I dunno, it was weird and uncomfortable, and I tried to talk to him about it, but he just got mad and started throwing shit.  Breaking stuff.  I’d come back to the room, and he’d’ve thrown my things out.  Just … weird shit.”

“Buck, why didn’t you talk to your RA, or Dr. Banner?”

“His word against mine.  I couldn’t prove anything.  When I’d confront him about my stuff, he’d start saying I tossed my stuff myself, screwed up my phone or my PC myself, and I just didn’t remember.  Like I was losing my mind or something, doing shit in my sleep.  He could be so convincing, I was starting to question it myself. 

“Nat believed me, though.  I started spending more time with her, sometimes sleeping in her room.  Her roommate was cool about it, and they came up with the idea for Nat and me to make it look more like we were a couple.  So no one would question us spending so much time together.  We were always together anyway – Nat’s been my closest friend since forever, we were always together.  And Brock’s not afraid of anyone.  Except Nat.”

“But staying over?  Surely that must have raised some eyebrows.”

“We were careful.  And it wasn’t new – we hung out all the time, it wasn’t unusual for one or the other of us to fall asleep in the other’s dorm room.  We didn’t have to change much about how we interacted to be convincing.  It’s not like we haven’t experimented a bit together.  We’ve never gone all the way – I haven’t, and I don’t think she has, either.  But we’ve done a lot.

“So Brock backed off.  And by the end of the year, we’d each put in our accommodation requests.  He asked for us to double up again, I asked for a single.  He figured it was so I could bang Nat, but keep some semblance of ‘propriety’.”

“So Nat was your beard?”

Bucky frowned then, trying to swallow.  Steve jumped up and offered him the lidded cup with the straw, and Bucky drank gratefully.  He handed the cup back to Steve.  “A beard means it’s all fake, and well, it wasn’t.  Like I said, we’ve done stuff together.  She was my first kiss, and I was hers.  Her boobs were the first I’d ever touched, and my cock was the first she’d ever played with.  When we’re together, we just don’t need anybody else’s boundaries.  Where Brock was concerned, she was more like … my protector, I guess.  My warrior queen,” he added with a wry grin.  “We could’a kept going like that forever, I think.  Except then Clint transferred in.  And so did you.”

Steve felt something bloom in his chest again, and he tamped it down, sure that he’d heard wrong.  But he pressed Bucky for explanation on the whole Nat’s new-old boyfriend thing.  “Yeah, what’s the deal with Clint?”

“He and Nat met at the Youth Olympics, it was fucking love at first sight.   Nat’s Mom and mine were college roommates, and they’ve stayed closed since then.  So Nat and I practically grew up together.   We actually were kind of boyfriend and girlfriend, back when we were six.  But when she noticed me mooning over Tommy Silverstein back in third grade, she told me to go be me, and she’d be her, and we’d always be best friends, with benefits as the need arose.  As break-ups go, it was kinda the gold standard.”

“So … you like …?”

“Both, yes.  So does Nat, for that matter.  But when Clint got here in September, things changed.  We actually tried, y’know, the three of us.  It was good – making out, touching, little experimentation.  It was nice, but I could tell that they would really rather just be the two of them.  And I was kinda into somebody myself, and I don’t think a fourth would’a helped the dynamic, y’know?  Clint stayed on the downlow, though, so Brock wouldn’t get suspicious.  But Nat, well, she finally kinda had it about hiding her boyfriend, not getting to do anything publicly with him.  Clint was cool about it – the guy defines chill!  And he is totally flexible.  But Nat wanted something more normal.  I couldn’t blame her.  But if she and I split up, I couldn’t guarantee that Brock wouldn’t come after me again.  Or go after anyone I was interested in.”

“I still don’t get why you didn’t talk to Dr. Banner.  And why you stayed on the swim team with that asshole.  And why you treated me like utter shit!”

“A, I’m stupid.  I realize now there were lots of people I could have talked it over with – Dr. Banner, your uncle, Peggy.  Nat said as much.  She gave me a serious ration of shit about trying to deal with this myself.  Like, _serious_ ration of shit.  Whole mountains.  Cursing me in several languages for making a mess of things.  Dragging her in.  Dragging Clint in by association.”

“Okay, so, you’re stupid.  I’ll buy that.  Could’a avoided a lot of shit if you’d just talked to someone in charge.”

“Oh, and you have the greatest of respect for authority figures, he who came charging into the locker room and jumped on Rumlow’s back, fists flying?  You were like a fucking howler money, Steve.  If Brock hadn’t’a knocked you out, I don’t know how Dr. Banner was gonna get you off’a Brock.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like bullies.”

“Apparently.  So, B, as for the team, I liked the guys at first.  I like to swim.  I’m good at it.  Or, I was.”  He lifted his casted arm and waved it back and forth before letting it drop back down to the bed.  “Don’t know if I’ll be able to swim competitively again.  Not this season, anyway.  Lot of rehab ahead of me.”

“And the last one?”

“Exhibit C.  I didn’t want Brock to figure out how I felt about you. But he did.”

“How you felt about me?”

“How I _feel_.”

“Oh.  And how’s that?”

“Geeze, Rogers, are you fucking blind?  How many goddamned signals do I need to put out there, huh?”

“A lot apparently, because Rumlow might have figured it out, but I haven’t.  I still haven’t.”

“Yeah, and that really sucks.  I guess I should’a been a little more direct.  Because, really, punk?  You never even suspected that I’m into you?”  


“No, you’re straight.  No, wait –”

“No, you keep assuming I’m straight because you never let me get a word in to tell you that I’m not.  Do you realize this is the longest you’ve let me talk about my feelings and my orientation without interrupting me?  Or trying to shove me into a heteronormative box, you fucking asshole?  Geeze, for someone who came in here all ‘whaddya mean you don’t have a queer club?’ you’re all about the straight.”

“So, you’re really not straight?  Or not even mostly straight?”

“What’d I just say, huh?” 

“And Natasha knew, all this time?”

“We’re friends, best friends.  Like I said, she noticed when I started noticing, maybe even before.  She knew before I did.  Back then, and now.  Clint’s been her real boyfriend for a long time, quietly.  You’ll like him.  He’s a good guy.  He’s a total disaster, but he makes her happy in ways I’ll never understand.  And oh my God, what arms!  But she took one look at you and knew I was already a goner before I ever figured it out.”

“Seriously?”

“Like I said.  I’m into you.  I really like you.  I think … I think it could be more.  You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Steve.  I’m not ashamed of how I feel, y’gotta believe that.  I didn’t want Brock to figure it out and target your skinny ass.  But I fucked that up, too.  So, yeah, I’m really kinda gone on you.  But you are one royal pain in the ass.”

“It _has_ been said.”

“And Sam?  He didn’t deserve you.  But his loss … I hope … is my gain?”

“I may have to thank him and Riley for making us face up to the fact that neither one of us is made for a long distance romance.  Because yeah, he totally did me a favor.  Yeah, Buck.  Yeah, I hope so, too.  His loss is my gain, too.”

Steve stood up then and stretched to lean over to place a chaste kiss on Bucky’s damaged mouth.  Bucky hissed in pain and Steve pulled back in a panic.  But Bucky fisted Steve’s t-shirt with his good right hand, and dragged him back to try again.  And again, for good measure.  And one more for the road.

&&&

The next day, the nurse on duty chivvied Steve out of the room and told him he needed to go bathe before he started generating new colonies of MRSA.  He and Bucky had begged her to let Steve stay, but she’d been adamant.  And besides, Bucky was supposed to go through several evaluations that day to start his treatment plan, and only family members – specifically a parent or guardian – were permitted in on those sessions.

Steve still hadn’t met anyone in Bucky’s family, but he knew that his Dad was coming in from wherever they lived to sit in on the evaluations.

Uncle Phil had swung by Bucky’s room a couple of times, checking in on them, bringing Steve food, making sure they were okay.  When he brought Steve back later that afternoon, he also brought news.

“Currently, Coach Sitwell is under administrative censure.  We’ve reported his actions to the NICSA – that’s the organization governing high school aquatics coaches.  We’re also considering legal action.  A potential civil suit.”

“Why is he not arrested?” Steve demanded, stowing his bag behind the chair where he’d been planting himself since Bucky was hospitalized.

Uncle Phil tilted his head, looked directly at Bucky, and asked reasonably, “Did he ever raise a hand to anyone?”

Bucky shook his head. 

“Did he ever, in your presence, instruct anyone to threaten or assault anyone?”

Bucky shook his head again.

“And therein lies the problem with an arrest.  Coach Sitwell has poor judgment, and an even poorer moral compass.  But he didn’t overtly do anything criminal.  He allowed bad stuff to happen, and he covered up issues that should have been reported and addressed, as per the Stark Code of Ethics.  He broke Stark rules, but the only way he’s complicit in a crime is if James here presses charges against Brock Rumlow.  Then he can be charged with conspiracy, accomplice after the fact, something along those lines.  But, James – are you willing to press charges against Brock?”

Again, Bucky shook his head.  “You know what his Dad is like.”

“And that’s why Brock has received more latitude over the years than perhaps was wise.  But he is 18 now.  Technically, he _is_ an adult, and should be accountable for his actions.”

“So he’s 18 now.  He’d be tried as an adult.”

“Yes, he would.”

“Like adult prison, not juvie.  All those TV shows, those movies … they’d eat him alive.”

“Yes, I expect they would.  It’s your choice, James.  I’m not trying to influence you here.  I just want you to know that it’s your right to press charges if you choose to do so.”

“And my right to _not_ , right?”

‘Yes, of course,” Uncle Phil had nodded with a faint smile.

“Brock’s Dad.  He’s gonna be so pissed.  He’s gonna kill Brock.  And prison isn’t gonna fix Brock.  It’ll either kill him or make him worse.  And my Dad … he won’t appreciate the publicity.”

“That’s not your concern, James –“

“But it is.  I have to live with consequences, too.  I shouldn’t be punished for being the victim, but trust me, if I make this into a big media shitstorm, I’m not getting out of this without some shit hitting me.  Steve, too.”

“Buck, no –“

“If it’s not something about my sexuality, it’s gonna be something else.  Boys will be boys horseshit.  He has his whole career ahead of him.  You know how the media makes the bully into the victim.  And I just wanna get through the rest of the year, heal up and get back in the pool.  And I don’t want the people I care about dragged into anything.”  Bucky reached for Steve’s hand and squeezed it.  “I’ve been able to avoid the media in all the years I’ve been here.  I don’t want that to change.”

“Okay.  You’ll need to confirm that with the police, that you don’t want to press charges.  It’s your right, and I will respect that.  I expect your father will as well.  I _am_ going to expel Brock, however.  He’s demonstrated that Stark Academy isn’t enough for him.  He needs something we can’t offer –“

“That’s it.  That’s the deal.  No charges, if he gets help.  Therapy.  Anger management.  PTSD.  Ask Dr. Banner what he thinks –“

“You know he’s not that kind of doctor, right?  I mean, we all treat him like he is, but his degree is in physics, not medicine, and certainly not psychiatry.”

“Yeah, but he’s also Brock’s guidance counselor.”

“Yes, and he’s beating himself up for not seeing the signs clearly before this.  For not stopping it before anyone got hurt.”  Uncle Phil looked meaningfully from Bucky to Steve and back again.  Of course Steve had told him all about Bucky’s admission, and Steve’s own feelings.  He knew that Bucky wasn’t a rebound, because he knew that he’d been attracted to Bucky from the moment he’d met him. It was only now that he felt he could allow himself to act on it.

“So, you two, huh?  Had a feeling.”

“No way, you didn’t,” Steve protested.

“Yes, way.  I saw how you both looked at each other.  I figured it was only a matter of time.”

“Why didn’t you say something?  Why didn’t somebody tell me?” Steve whined, feeling really put upon and not a little blind.

“When it comes to matters of the heart, Steve, only you can find your way.  You were finally ready to see.”

“And I straight up told him, the punk.”

“Well, there is that,” Uncle Phil agreed with a large grin.  Steve was feeling too good about finally having the truth between them to be upset at all.

&&&

Steve and Bucky were watching TV, holding hands and talking in low voices when a distinguished looking man came into the room, rapping gently on the doorframe.  “Son?” he called out softly.  Bucky’s hand tightened around Steve’s, and Steve felt nerves and adrenalin spike inside.

“In here,” Bucky called out tentatively.

The man came into the room and smiled, the smile dropping only a little in wattage when he saw the two boys holding hands.  Truth be told, if Steve could’ve swung it without hurting Bucky, he’d be cuddled up with him in the narrow hospital bed, but Bucky’s ribs and arm were not going to tolerate that level of closeness in such a small space at this point.

Barnes Pere masked it quickly, but it was clear he wasn’t entirely happy to see his son cuddling with another boy.  That made Steve want to climb into bed, straddle Bucky’s lap, and put on a show.  Instead he waited to see if Bucky’s Dad acknowledged his existence.

“You must be Steve.  I’ve heard a lot about you.  It’s good to meet you,” Dad offered, extending his hand to shake Steve’s.  Steve glanced at Bucky for direction, and he nodded.

“Pleased to meet you, too sir.  I, uh, I haven’t –“

“I haven’t talked about home much, Dad.”

“Of course you haven’t.  Well, I look forward to getting to know the man who risked his own safety to save my son.  You were willing to put it all on the line when the people who were tasked with protecting him failed.  I see why James thinks you’re special, young man.”

“I, um, okay?”

Mr. Barnes chuckled.  “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“You’re Bucky’s Dad, right?”

The man chuckled and ducked his head.  “Yeah.  And?”

“And I’m guessing you’re somebody important.  I understand most parents here at Stark are important.”

“Well, that’s an astute observation.  Yes.  I am someone of reasonable importance.  So.  You two.  You’re together now?” he asked, gesturing between them with his finger.  His voice was carefully neutral, carefully non-judgmental.  Carefully politically correct.

“Yes, sir?”  


“Good.  I’ll save the shovel talk – from what James has told me, I have a feeling you might give me one instead.  But Steve, James will be coming home for Christmas with the family.  I know it’s just you and your uncle, so I, um, I wanted to invite you both to join us for the holidays.  I’ve already spoken to Phil, um, your uncle, and he said the decision is yours.”

Well, that was unexpected and surprising.  And welcome, maybe?  “Oh.  Um, Buck?”

Bucky grinned broadly, nodding.  “Do you really have to ask? Having you there would make this the best holiday ever.”

“Well, it’s my first Christmas without Ma.  I can’t promise I’ll be the best company. But yeah, if it’s okay with Uncle Phil, and Bucky approves, I’m in.  Yeah.  Thanks, Mr. Barnes.”

“Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“Maybe you should tell him.”

“Right.  Um, you may find yourself the object of attention from paparazzi.  You should just ignore them, don’t engage.”

“Why would they be interested in me? I’m nobody.”

“Somehow I don’t think that true.  But James?  Well, he’s the son of the governor of Pennsylvania.”

“He’s, uh, what?”

“Second term. Three more years, and Harrisburg is history.  What then, Dad?  Washington?”

“You’ll be in college at that point.  You’ll be responsible for your own scandals then,” Mr. Barnes – Governor Barnes – said then, but it had the edge of an oft-repeated comment, something dusted off and trotted out like an obligatory sound bite.  The thinning of Bucky’s lips seemed to confirm Steve’s assessment, and Steve tightened the pressure of his fingers against Bucky’s. 

“Wow, I didn’t know I was dating royalty,” Steve commented, trying to lighten the mood.

“Better believe it, baby!” Bucky told him with a grin, pulling him closer to kiss him stupid.  Steve felt an ineffectual pat on the bed, and then the snick of the door closing.  By the time they came up for air, Governor Dad had left, and it was just they two.

“So, bisexual, harassed and bullied by your ex-roommate, recently in a polyamory relationship, crazy about my dumb ass, and son of the Governor.  Anything else you forgot to tell me?” Steve whispered against Bucky’s lips.

“How about I’m the luckiest guy at this school, huh?  Maybe this town.  No, this county!  The whole commonwealth?”

“Don’t need no civics lesson, Buck.  Just kiss me, and show me how lucky we both are.”

&&&

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me! I'm happy with how this came together, and I hope you are, too!


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our tale comes to an end, just in time for the holidays. And we get a glimpse of what the future holds for our boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I previewed a draft of this for my Patreon patrons, and then got distracted - including writing another 2,000 words of By Royal Decree! But I did promise you an ending, my wonderful readers, and here it is. I really enjoyed writing this story - I hope you enjoyed reading it.

Bucky got out of the hospital a few days later, weighed down with a laundry list of dos and don’ts and give it a tries.  His arm was still in a cast, and would remain that way until they came back from the holiday break.  He bitched about it itching, about it weighing too much, but mostly about how he couldn’t put his arms properly around his boyfriend.  So Steve opted to make up for Bucky’s limitation by becoming a human limpet.  Everywhere they went, Steve had himself wound around Bucky’s mid-section.  And Steve went everywhere with Bucky, not that Bucky was complaining.  But Bucky did draw the line at Steve helping him out at the urinal.  That was just … no.

Some of the other students started to challenge them to a three-legged race, or a sack race, or some other ridiculous sport, but Steve just stuck out his tongue and ignored them.  Bucky would rub his chin against the crown of Steve’s head, and just grin.  The pair of them were stupid happy, and anyone who didn’t like that wasn’t worth bothering about.

The school had a different flavor to it now, less tense, more carefree. 

Sitwell was gone, and the women’s coach, Maria Hill, had stepped up to take over the entire program.  The meet where Bucky had been beaten had been rescheduled, and Stark had taken the top spots handily.  Bucky had been missed, but the remaining team had pulled together to snag a win in his honor.  In fact, the team had invited Bucky – and Steve – to dinner at the L&L so they could share the trophy.

In the meantime, NISCA was investigating the disgraced Sitwell for misconduct, and disciplinary action was already underway.

Brock Rumlow was gone, too.  Uncle Phil had told Steve and Bucky privately that Rumlow’s father, an alleged crime boss with a history of domestic violence, had been apoplectic about Brock’s actions and fall from grace.  Professors Fury and Banner had to be called in to Uncle Phil’s office to help subdue the man.  He’d committed gracelessly to having Brock undergo evaluation and treatment, but Uncle Phil worried that he’d remanded Brock to a greater hell of his father’s making.  It had always been a concern, but Brock’s own behavior had made him dangerous to others, and Uncle Phil couldn’t allow that to stand.

The saddest part of the encounter had been Mr. Rumlow’s attitude about Brock’s actions – he wasn’t the least bit concerned about anything but the deal he’d been hoping to strike with the Governor, and Brock going after the Governor’s son had fucked up three years of effort to get into a good position with Harrisburg.  He was angry about Brock souring the deal, not about anyone’s well-being, even his own son’s.  The two had nearly come to blows on their way out of Uncle Phil’s office, and Uncle Phil had a sinking feeling that wasn’t the last they’d seen of that particularly toxic father-son duo.

So, Bucky had been welcomed back to school with smiles and waves, since Uncle Phil had asked all the teachers to inform students that they should not try to touch Bucky.  He was still healing, and the bruises were still healing.  And outside of Steve and their circle of friends, he shied away from touch, something the doctors said was a normal reaction to an assault.  He had every right to not want to be touched, and Stark Academy was going to enforce that right.

During the lunch break, Coach Maria Hill came up to Bucky and welcomed him back, then stood there staring at him for a long, uncomfortable moment.  Bucky was about to say something when she abruptly asked, “Wanna be assistant coach for the rest of the season?  You’re not getting back in the pool to compete until that’s fully healed, but you’re gonna do a lot of swimming for rehab.  I could use the help, and everybody respects you.  Whaddya say, Barnes?  Help me out?”

Bucky just stared at her, eyes wide.  Steve leaned around Bucky from where he sat at the table, and nodded, saying, “When his brain re-engages, he’ll agree with me.  I say yes.”

Bucky just nodded, and Hill just smiled, turned on her heel, and stalked away.

Bucky grinned.

&&&

The holiday gathering of Friends Across the Spectrum at the L&L found Clint introducing himself to the gang properly, and it was clear that he belonged with them as much as any of them did.  He made quite the stir when he invited Steve to make out with him, dangling a sprig of mistletoe suggestively over Steve’s head.  “I’ve already kissed the Buckster, kinda wanna know how I stack up.”

Steve glanced at Bucky, who shrugged with a faint smile, so Steve took Clint up on the offer.  Steve would later agree with Buck that Clint was a really good kisser, but at the time, Steve ended up being kind of dizzy after Clint kissed him, so Bucky just gathered him up so his back rested against his chest until the amorous haze passed. 

Clint turned to Natasha to say that he wanted to add Steve to their relationship, and she scotched that with a playful whack to his head.

“I know you’re a wonderful kisser, Clint, and there’s more than enough of you to go around.  You’ve got a generous heart.  _But_.  I prefer to be the sole object of your affection. The single, uncontested, center of your universe.  We didn’t dump James just to add his bf,” she grinned at Bucky and Steve, and Steve just smiled while Bucky blew her an affectionate kiss.  “Now, show me who you really belong to,” she commanded, and hauled Clint to her by grabbing his shirt front.  Then the pair of them were making out, right in the booth. 

Bucky slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him close.  “Speaking of who belongs to who, whaddya say, baby?” Bucky asked, nuzzling Steve’s ear, nosing into his hair.

Steve turned within the arc of Bucky’s arm and touched his nose to Bucky’s.  “Not in the mood for sharin’, Buck.  I’m yours and you’re mine,” he agreed.

“Yeah, but if you ever get tired of tall, dark, and gorgeous with great hair, look me up,” Clint said before Natasha recaptured his face and drew it back for a kiss.

By the time they’d sorted themselves out, the others had started to arrive.  Angie arrived on the arms of both Peggy and Gabe, looking every inch the cat who got the cream and the mouse, too.  Peggy and Gabe looked pretty happy, too, and they couldn’t contain their excitement.  Peggy dangled a cute keychain with a very shiny, very new key hanging from it.

“Is that …?”

“English and Gorgeous here are moving in with me.  Both my loves, right where they belong,” Angie sighed, then kissed each one on the lips.  The joy among the three of them was infectious and delicious.

Kev came in shortly after, hand in hand with a sweet looking boy with beautiful brown eyes and an even more beautiful smile.  Steve felt a little pang, seeing a little of Sam in the newcomer, but he reminded himself that Sam had found Riley, and in the fallout, Steve had found Bucky.  And now Kev had found someone who put a huge grin on his face, and a soft look in his eyes.  T’Challa was an exchange student from a small African country that was fast setting the gold standard for tech development, not only in African continent, but around the world. He had a lovely deep voice and an accent that was unique to his homeland.  He looked at Kev like he was the brightest star in the sky, and Steve felt something in him relax.  He wanted Kev to be happy, but he knew that he and Kev were better suited to friendship than to any kind of romance.  And that Kev had found someone who looked at him like T’Challa did?  He knew they were all going to be okay.

The rest of the gang came in ones and twos and threes, until they’d pretty much taken over the diner.  Monty and Karen came in with hands clasped over their heads, showing off the diamond ring that Monty had shown around earlier in the week.  They both looked like they were glowing.  Steve grinned as he held out his hand, and his friends all dropped his winnings into his palm.  “Guess I’m buying tonight, baby,” he murmured in Bucky’s ear.  Bucky just turned and kissed him again.

Angie wasn’t working tonight, and instead enjoyed watching her boss wait on her and the gang.  There was a lot of good-natured ribbing, teasing, and laughter.  At one point, Ange canted her head toward where her boss was frantically trying to bus the tables, and as one, she, Peggy, and Gabe got up and started helping.  Then the rest of the gang did, too.  After all it had become home to them all over the last couple of months.

&&&

Bucky had been staying in the dorm, but on the night before Christmas eve, he moved into the guest room so he’d be ready to go when Uncle Phil planned to pull out and head toward Harrisburg.

Steve had already told him about what had happened between him and Sam in this room, that he and Sam had made love their first and last time.  They agreed that secrets and assumptions had cost them valuable kissing time, and they weren’t about to waste anymore.  So once he stowed his stuff, Bucky had laid on the bed, reaching for Steve, and Steve had curled into Bucky.  Bucky had just kissed him, holding him tight.  Neither of them was ready to go beyond kisses and touches, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy the kisses and the touches.  They’d agreed they wanted to go slow, figure out who they were together and apart, and take the long view.  Both felt strongly that there was something special happening between them, and neither want to stress it or second-guess it. 

They had the car packed and ready to go early on Christmas eve.  The neighbors had all put out their luminarias, so that the streets of Potts Junction were lined with little white paper bags, each weighted with sand so they wouldn’t blow away.  Tonight, the little candles inside would all be lit, and the whole of the town would be outlined in candlelight.

“Bruce, Dr. Banner, said he’d come over and light ours and take a video.  This is the only thing I’ll miss about Christmas somewhere else.  I love these silly things.  Hey, did I tell you he and Dr. Ross got engaged over Hannukah?”

&&&

Christmas at the Barnes residence was more formal than Steve had ever experienced, and even Uncle Phil seemed a bit cowed by the grandeur of the Governor’s Mansion.  But Bucky’s sister Becca was friendly and happy to see them, and Bucky’s Mom – and her assistant/girlfriend – seemed genuinely excited to see Bucky with someone who clearly made him happy. 

Bucky explained the odd domestic arrangement as “politically expedient,” while Bucky’s Mom added, “We’re announcing our separation in the new year.  We’ve been waiting on the legislature to pass some key bills before we did.  George didn’t want to risk losing some of the conservative votes, and I agreed.  But the measures are passed, and they’re moving into law.  And we can start to move on, too.”  Bucky’s Mom had turned then to kiss her girlfriend, both of them smiling.

As the family settled down to watch _A Christmas Story_ and then _White Christmas_ , Steve’s phone dinged to announce an incoming text.

**Sam:**   Merry Christmas, dork!

Steve looked down at his phone and smiled.  Bucky was sitting next to him, his arm around Steve’s shoulders as he sang along with Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney.  Counting your blessings.

Steve had a lot of blessings to count.  One sat next to him.  The other was waiting at the other end of the call.

**Steve:**   Merry Christmas right back at you, nerd.  You with Riley?

There was a pause while the ellipsis danced on his screen, and finally Sam’s reply displayed.

**Sam:**   Yeah. He says hi.  
**Steve:** Selfie.

There was a long pause during which Steve wondered if Sam had walked away.  And then suddenly there it was, Sam looking down into the camera, a red-haired, freckled boy with dancing green eyes pressed up close.  So that was Riley.  He’d lost Sam to a _leprechaun_. 

**Sam:** Did you get what you wanted for Christmas?

Steve grinned, and tugged Bucky over to take a selfie of their own. 

**Steve:**   Sure did.  He’s not straight!

&&&

 

**Epilogue Part II – 10 Years Later**

He slipped his arms around his husband’s shoulders and pressed against his back, nosing at the soft skin behind his ear, breathing in the essence of him.  He never tired of this.  No matter where, no matter what, this, holding him close, this was home.

“You’ve been quiet for a while,” he breathed against his ear, smiling as he felt the fine tremor of a shiver.

“Sorry.  Just remembering.”

“Good memories, I hope.”

“Hmm.”  Bucky stood then and Steve let his arms fall away as Bucky turned and pulled him into an embrace, kissing the top of Steve’s head.   “When you’re in them, always.”  Then he bent down so they brushed noses, lips, then rested their foreheads together.  “It’s weird to be back here.”

Steve lifted his face up and smiled; Bucky returned the expression fondly.  “Uncle Phil’s had a good run.  I’m glad he got to walk away on his own terms.”

They let go of each other then as Steve moved to claim his jacket, shrugging it on.  Bucky straightened his tie and smoothed down his shirt.  They were both dressed in their best suits to participate in the final farewell of Phil Coulson as headmaster of Stark Academy.  Students from every year that Uncle Phil had presided over the school had made the effort to come back to see him off.  The public high school’s football stadium had been pressed into service for the festivities.  Speakers and presenters gathered at Stark to go over together in a series of cars organized by Tony Stark himself.  Everyone was emotional about Uncle Phil’s retirement, but Tony might actually have been the most affected.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed.  “Tony and Pepper took it well.  Endowing a tech center in his name.  And the school couldn’t do any better than Bruce to take over.  It’s nice to see everyone come back to see him off.  It’s just … it all started _here_ , didn’t it?  Our lives today.  It all started here.”

“Well, Uncle Phil’s house.  That’s where we met for the first time.  And our first kiss was in the hospital –“

“Our first blow job was in the locker room.  At this very school.  And our first hand job –“

“Yeah, yeah, I get the picture.  We were a coupla pervs.  Uncle Phil would’a had a fit if he’d known what we were getting up to.”

“Pretty sure your uncle didn’t miss shit.  He still doesn’t.  He’s been good to us.”

“We’re good for us.”

“Yeah, we are.  So, Senator- to-be Barnes-Rogers, ready to meet your future constituents?”

“Leave politics for another day.  This is Uncle Phil’s day, Counselor.”

“That’s not what my Dad taught you.  I know he tried to teach you to be a ruthless politician, a worthy protégé to achieve what he couldn’t.  But you … you gorgeous, kind man, you.  A vote for Steve Barnes-Rogers is a vote for all that’s good and worthwhile in the world,”  Bucky caught Steve around the middle and hauled him close to plant a kiss on his lips.

“Sez you.  Kinda think you’re biased,” Steve chuckled, stretching on tiptoe to kiss Bucky on the nose.

Bucky grinned and leaned down to kiss Steve once more, quick and chaste.  “Oh, I’m biased, all right.  I got a right to be.  Ten years with you kinda warps a man’s perspective.  Makes him think anything is possible.  Could be why I went into LGBT law.  I see a future made up of equality when I look through your eyes.”

“Y’always were a sap, but I like what you see.  I want that future, for us and for everyone.”

“We’ll get there, baby.  Look how far we’ve come.”

Steve nodded.  “Uncle Phil told me Brock asked to come this weekend.”  Bucky stiffened in Steve’s arms, and Steve was quick to pull him into a hug.  “He assumed you wouldn’t want to see him, so he politely declined.”

“I don’t care what he did to me.  He apologized and he did go through therapy.  But what he’s been doing lately, the things he’s been saying about you, Steve –“

“It’s part of the job.  Dealing with people who don’t share my beliefs.  If I’m to represent the people of this commonwealth, I represent them all, whether I agree with their politics or not.”

“He could hurt your campaign, the shit he’s saying.  Not just you, but the kids I fight for, the causes that matter –“

“He has a right to speak, Buck.  He has a right to free speech.”

“It’s hate speech.  At best, it’s slander.  You should let me put together a suit –“

“The only suit I wanna see is the one you’re wearing.  And then, when we’re done tonight, I wanna peel you out of it, baby.

A knock on the door broke the spell, and the door opened, revealing Bruce Banner, grayer, more lined, but still the open-hearted man they’d worked with so many years earlier.  “You guys decent?  I swear, married five years, you’d think you were still on your honeymoon,” he added with a grin.

“All hands above the waist, I promise,” Steve answered, raising his hands in surrender.

“Not that we weren’t contemplating it,” Bucky corrected with a sly grin.

“How Phil survived the pair of you, I don’t know.  But I’m glad he did.  You guys ready?”

“Always.”

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is complete, but the epilogue does set the stage for a sequel, to be written at some point in the future. I'll add it to my list of story ideas in January. It's still very, very tentative, just a general idea, nothing concrete yet.
> 
> I'm also going to be writing some timestamps to go along with this, elaborating parts of the story from other points of view. I'd love to know the sections that you'd like to see developed more. I have several ideas of points in the story where I want to get Bucky's perspective, or Sam's, or even Uncle Phil's. Feel free to let me know what you'd like to see expanded. I love hearing from you, and I am thankful to have you all in my life.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this while my readers have been voting on my writing projects for November, December, and now January, too. The story is nearly complete, and I'll be posting a chapter every day or so until the entire story is complete.


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